


Forgetting You

by TurnipSunday



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: ?? i think and hope it will, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Katniss Everdeen/Gale Hawthorne, Post-Canon, Post-Mockingjay, Slow Burn, So Does Gale, but has a lot of issues, madge is a badass now, this is really just a gadge fic, this is turning into a big big
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23872618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurnipSunday/pseuds/TurnipSunday
Summary: Gale had made a promise to Madge to protect her as she had done with the morphling. But when the moment came, Gale was unable to save her from the firebombs that killed her—or so he thought.Story starts after the war, when a chance meeting puts Madge, now a respected military captain, face to face with the man she tried so hard to forget. She must finally come to terms with the grudge she holds over the one who left her behind, as he must also contend with his guilt over the past.
Relationships: Gale Hawthorne/Madge Undersee, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 39
Kudos: 114





	1. Just a name

**Author's Note:**

> First started this fic maybe eight years ago at the height of my love for Gadge ... but they are such a good ship! I had to resurrect. More to come, but wanted to post this (mostly unpolished) chapter to keep me accountable for continuing to write. Enjoy!

She gripped the mug of black coffee, turning her knuckles white. The mornings spent sitting alone in her kitchen gave her a lot of time to think, let her mind slip into a subconscious allowing her to revive those old memories, the ones she thought she had forgotten. But as much as she tried, those memories never failed to haunt her in her sleep.

The blonde was brought out of her thoughts when she felt a searing pain in her hands. Looking down, she saw that she had shattered the mug, both efficiently cutting and burning her hands. It was a wonder she had only felt it now; the coffee was already in a pool of black at her feet. She scowled as she brought herself up to the sink, her black combat boots hardly making a sound on the white tile floor, much like a hunter she once knew. She shoved the thought aside; surely it wasn’t healthy for her to be thinking of him so often, was it? Besides, she couldn’t care less about him nor of what had happened to him after the war. Even after assuring herself, a tiny twinge of doubt still tugged at her heart. 

After properly bandaging the cuts and burns, just as she had learned long ago, she mentally added this new injury to her never-ending list of bodily scars. Once ashamed of them, she now wore her scars proudly, proof she endured and survived the Capitol’s atrocities. No, not even the beloved mayor’s _daughter_ could escape the Capitol’s cruelty.

She clicked her tongue. Yes, no one could have imagined the kind of treatment that she, the mayor’s daughter, the bratty princess, the Townie snob, had gone through. Hell, she hadn’t either. She supposed it could have been even worse. At least she hadn’t attacked anyone like Peeta had, from what she heard. She hadn’t talked to the pair of victors since she last saw them before the Quarter Quell. Of course, she had always assumed they thought she was dead anyways. Those two didn’t need another ghost in their lives.

A small smile played at her lips as she thought of her old friends. It seemed like a lifetime ago since she had seen anyone from her home District. Yes, she had had some memorable times then, but it was just too painful. Madge didn’t like dwelling on the past; she was always looking forward. Besides, she liked her life much better now, didn’t she? No time for feelings. No time to get _hurt._ Just work.

Now she was _Captain_ Margaret D. Undersee. She wasn’t the weak, mayor’s daughter that had allowed herself to be manipulated by the Capitol. She didn’t let anyone touch her.

When she first arrived in 1, she had distanced herself from everyone else in her unit and just focused on her job. She rejected anyone’s invitations for a drink and sat at lunch at by herself. It felt all too familiar from her life in 12 after Katniss left for the Hunger Games. 

Soon she was assigned a squad. Somehow the other members recognized the young blonde’s courage and fearlessness, and eventually elected her the squad captain. By the next year’s evaluations, Madge’s squad came up number one, all due to their perfect teamwork under their captain’s guide.

No matter how hard she tried keeping to herself, her squad members eventually loosened her up and she was able to actually enjoy life again. She always had said that she was meant to serve among the squad she was with. She was grateful to have earned their respect, though she was one of the youngest among the group. They were a family to her, the only family she felt she had left.

The other family she had thought she had left her alone, alone to die. Even after he had promised.

She cursed herself for believing he would keep her promise.

People in her unit always asked her how she could be so young yet such a courageous soldier, but she always just smiled and shook her head. _He_ was the real reason. He was the reason she fought so hard. He was the reason she could fight without fear. He had given her _plenty_ reasons to.

* * *

It was the Madge’s weekend off and she spent it alone. She took a quick look around her huge bedroom. It was a suite, designed for two people. With only Madge living here it just felt empty. Her eyes fell upon the fireplace, its two glass doors stood closed and untouched since moving here three years ago. Of course, she couldn’t bear herself to use it, she was deathly afraid of fire, maybe only one of the things she feared.

Fire. It brought too many painful memories. Madge let her eyes glaze over as she let herself drift into the past that gave her nightmares at night.

The firebombs in 12.

The burning torture in the Capitol

The flames inflicted upon her parents that caused their deaths.

Slow. Painful. 

Clenching her jaw, she was unable to hold in her anger as her hands grew into fists. She knew that this is what the Capitol had intended, they wanted her to continue to be wounded and haunted from the war and their evil doings. She could not let them win. She was stronger, and with a deep breath and slow exhale, slowly her muscles began to relax, her mind emptied of those thoughts. Just like her therapist taught her, the blonde slowly was able to become calm again. Sometimes, she wasn’t as successful; a broken vase here, a shattered mirror there. She felt a shiver that caused the hairs on her body stand up.

Too many mistakes. She shook her head. Suddenly, Madge felt exhausted. Too much thinking she guessed, so she slowly crawled herself into bed and held her arms tightly around her body as she fell asleep.

* * *

Madge became aware of the insistent pounding on her door and muffled calls of her name as she groggily rubbed her eyes awake. She groaned, pattered over to the door and sleepily opened it.

“Madge!” a tiny brunette threw her body around the blonde and squeezed her firmly. Usually she would have reprimanded such a display of affection from one of her lieutenants, but it was Lennon, whom everyone just called Len, the only female in her squad. The girl was the sharpshooter, and wasn’t afraid to talk back, but Madge had grown to like this about her. She pulled away from the brunette who was grinning like some crazy cat. If Len was visiting her quarters on the weekend, something must have happened back in the barracks. 

“So,” Madge started. “What is it this time? Frankie break something again?” She rolled her eyes thinking back to the time the young technician faltered and Madge had to rush to the shop. Frankie was the youngest lieutenant and just something short from genius. He was just… clumsy.

Len shook her head, smile still plastered across her face. At that, Madge felt a rare uneasiness about what Len was going to say, before the brunette brought out a small envelope, addressed to Captain Undersee of the 702nd. Studying the insignia pressed into the red wax seal, she felt her eyes grow wide. She shared a look with Len, who was already nodding excitedly.

“I know, I know!” Len squealed. “It’s the awards gala from up top. It must be! Arrived this morning. The rest of the guys might’ve seen the envelope too,” she bit her lip sheepishly. “But we just couldn’t wait until Monday for you to open it, so here it is.” Len suddenly seemed hyper-aware of the non-urgent reason for the visit. She straightened up into a salute to Madge. “Sir!”

“At ease, lieutenant,” Madge said with a grateful smile. Len’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Please tell the rest of the men that I will have some announcements for us on Monday.” She winked at the brunette, who returned the gesture with a smile and rushed down the hallway.

With Len gone, she closed her door to open the letter. As she had suspected, it was an invitation for the most prestigious awards event for all of new Panem’s military branches. She scanned for the details, her breath catching. _The gala will be held at Twill Hotel in downtown District 2._

District 2. Years ago, she had heard the name Hawthorne tossed around in the conversations she overhead between a couple of her superiors returning from a meeting in District 2 with other high-ranking officials. She had done her best to reassure herself that she had misheard, or that it was another Hawthorne, but she had come to fear District 2 just at the suggestion of his name.

In fact, for the last trip that had required her to go to District 2, she had somehow wriggled out of, shipping herself off to District 4 instead. But the gala… she couldn’t escape this.

She tossed the invitation on the counter, her eyes glancing to the bare fireplace yet again, whistling from the wind at the chimney outside. _Hawthorne,_ it seemed to be calling. She counted her breaths. It was just a name. She couldn’t be scared of a name.

No, she promised. This time next week, she and her quad would be in District 2, celebrating all together. It was just a name, she convinced herself. Just a name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I will try my best to continue this because it will do good to finish this story, even if it is just for my 8th grade year old self who thought so long and hard about this pairing. Of course, would love to hear from you, too!!


	2. The Gala

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have very little knowledge of how military stuff works so pls suspend some disbelief for me :) thank youu

Fuck.

She drew her nail across the raised ink printed on the gala’s program, repeating the motion even as she looked away. Finally, she willed herself to look back, half expecting the name to be razed from the paper.

The print stared back at her, defiantly unmarred despite her nail’s assault.

_Keynote Speaker_

_Col. G. Hawthorne_

Like she had learned, she inhaled for three counts, then exhaled for another three. She inwardly laughed at her luck. Finally invited to the gala to be recognized for her service, and Gale Hawthorne was the speaker. It was both a dream and nightmare come to life. She could face him. Right? She felt herself grow hot as the old memories resurfaced.

“Captain?” Len’s voice pulled her out of her reverie.

Madge blinked, then cleared her throat. She gave the brunette a smile, then looked at her other lieutenants, Frankie and Cull. Both were near opposites of each other—Frankie with his floppy hair pinned back conservatively, uniform loose around his lean frame and Cull with his close-cropped hair, uniform hugging the bulk of his muscles—but both their faces were laced with concern. She tried not to let herself feel the flush of embarrassment at the realization they had noticed her little moment.

As much as she wished all the 702nd soldiers were there to celebrate with her, she was relieved to have her squad of lieutenants at her side. “From both me and the rest of the 702nd, thank you for being here to accept this recognition, lieutenants.”

“Of course, captain,” Cull rushed to reply as Frankie and Len nodded appreciatively.

The gratitude for Len, Frankie and Cull calmed her and she settled back into her seat as they announced the keynote speaker. She would survive the night—his presence didn’t dictate this. She learned that a long time ago.

* * *

“And the new Panem,” Gale surveyed the room as he took an emphatic pause, trying to meet the eyes of some of the seated servicemen to express some sense of sincerity. “Is—” he stopped. The air around him keeled cold as he locked eyes with a blonde in the crowd. _Madge?_

Her blue eyes shocked his whole body still before breaking contact, flitting away. She bowed her head to hide her face, but he had seen it. Her cheekbones were more prominent, and her face sterner than he remembered, but he swore it was her. _Madge,_ he said in his mind again. A mantra.

“I-is…” Stuttering, he peeled his eyes away from the blonde, struggling to return to the moment. Everyone looked at him, expectantly. He started again. “The new Panem is indebted to your service. Thank you.” He finished weakly.

Gale couldn’t hear the hesitant applause that followed him down the platform, back to his seat. His ears rang, and he craned his neck towards the table Madge had been sitting at, or at least, the mirage of Madge Undersee, the dead girl. The room was big, and he was already at his table before he found the blonde again, facing away from him.

Clearly, she was not someone’s date; she was in a uniform, neatly pressed. From what he could tell from the detailing at the lapels, she was at least the rank of a captain. He stifled a laughed at the thought of the Madge he knew, the mayor’s daughter, in her staunch white dresses, as a military officer.

His commanding general leaned over to him, brow furrowed. “You alright, Hawthorne?”

“Yes.” Gale shook his head gently, as if trying to rid himself of her image. “Just thought I saw someone from home, sir.” He was silent a moment. “Do you know of an Undersee here today?”

The general frowned. “Lot of folk here today, son. Why don’t you check the program?”

“Of course,” Gale said sheepishly, graciously accepting the program the general offered him. He scanned it, halting at the second page. _To be recognized for excellence in performance._ He found her name amongst the following list of people to accept the recognition: _Cpt. M. Undersee of the 702 nd. _

He stared at the print, bewildered. He looked up, pinpointing her again. As he studied the back of the blonde head, he couldn’t deny that he had dreamed of this hair—the sandy gold marbled with flaxen strands. Even bound in a tight bun, the hair was unmistakably Madge’s, shining clean just as he remembered. He had spent years picking up blondes in dark bars, foolishly hoping for Madge’s gold, only to be disappointed by the streaks of brown or ginger revealed in the light once he brought them home. In the bedroom, he kept the light off. It was easier to pretend.

But at last, the gold was here. _She_ was here. How?

He reversed the tape in his mind, back to the scenes he tried his best to bury away. The stench of ash, the heat of the flames, the screams of anguish—all came rushing back with surprising force. He remembered his heart pounding, rushing through the thick smoke that smothered and blinded him as he stumbled towards the merchant’s square. He had left his family with Thom as he wordlessly dashed off to save Madge, maybe her family even, if he hurried. But he had already spent precious minutes pulling down the fence, herding those who he could towards the Meadow for refuge. By the time the mayor’s house came into view ahead of the road, he knew it was too late. His chest wracked from the onslaught of coughs and his heart sunk at the sight of the collapsed roof, smoke pluming from broken windows. She was dead, burning, he had reasoned, but his mother, Vick, Rory, Posey were all waiting for his return, safe from the flames. He knew he had to go back.

So he had left her. Held out hope for a while that more survivors from 12 would find their way to 13, and by some miracle her blonde hair would shine resilient in the gray of the underground district. No such stragglers arrived; whoever was left of his district, he had brought with him. Eventually, he accepted her death. Mourned her. Tried to forget.

But here she was. A ghost.

* * *

After the ceremony, the lieutenants beamed at the shining new plaque they were presented, wolfing down the celebratory meal. Their captain, although she had once again given a little address of gratitude, had grown noticeably quieter, stealing glances at Gale when she thought the lieutenants weren’t looking before excusing herself to the restroom.

At the table, the three lieutenants silently watched their captain stride towards the restroom as dessert was being served.

Frankie spoke first. “Didn’t captain, seem…” he trailed off, afraid his concern would be mistaken as disrespect. “I don’t know… a bit off this entire day?” He flinched slightly as Cull shot him a look.

Len piped in, raising her wine glass overzealously. “I think,” the brunette announced, “It’s because of _that_ man.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the stately colonel sitting at a table near the stage. He was taking long sips of his wine, raising it periodically to his lips.

“Who?” Cull demanded gruffly.

“You dimwitted lug.” Len waved down a server to refill her glass before continuing. “Gale Hawthorne? The one who gave the god awful speech full of empty platitudes that we all just sat through an hour ago?”

Cull and Frankie both shared a look, assuring each other that they were both equally as clueless to what Len was implying. They looked back at Len with raised eyebrows, willing her to continue.

Len let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, well this is all just speculation,” she qualified for them, “but, Hawthorne is from District 12 right? The famed handsome cousin of Katniss Everdeen.”

“Yes, we all know that,” Frankie rolled his eyes. “But what does that have to do with captain?” Cull was picking off the flaky layers of pastry off Frankie’s plate before Frankie swatted his hand away. Cull smiled.

“Focus, Cull,” Len teased. “This is actually good. Do you remember when we did recon in District 7 two seasons ago? We were posted in the woods for a night, was real cold out, but she refused to light the fire with us?”

“Yeah,” Cull recalled, chewing on some pastry. “Remember her being super upset. Like she was about to cry. She made her own camp that night, a yard away from us. Said…” He tried to remember.

“It reminded her of home.” Len finished.

“You don’t think…” Cull squinted in thought.

“She is from District 12,” Ralphie said uneasily, like a realization just dawned on him—and he didn’t like it. “She told me once, after I learned about my parents,” he swallowed thickly as Cull offered a hand on his back in comfort, “that she had lost her family and her home to fire.”

“The fire bombs,” Len said in a half-gasp.

“Alright,” Cull tried to rationalize, always defending his captain. “But just because fires are a trigger for her, doesn’t mean she’s from 12. Everything was burning during the war.”

“True,” Ralphie continued to connect the dots. “But it would explain why she seems to be so disturbed by Gale Hawthorne, of all people. Maybe they knew each other in 12?”

Len was nodding. “Look, I don’t know how—or even if—they know each other,” Len said in a hushed tone. “I just know that I’ve never seen Captain look so jarred. I mean, did you see how she fucking went to war with her program earlier? Like she was hellbent on scratching his name out.”

“Yeah, alright, I saw that too.” Cull admitted. All were silent for a moment.

“Huh.” Len huffed out. “If they didn’t know each other before, they know each other now.” She pointed her chin to the back of the room, where Gale had confronted Madge.

“What…” Frankie squinted, confused with the interaction they were watching.

“That bastard,” Cull hissed, rising up suddenly.

Len and Frankie looked at each other, letting only a beat pass before they rushed to follow their friend. 

* * *

All dinner, Gale had been waiting for an opportunity to see her face again. He had watched her grace the stage, confident in her long strides to accept the recognition. He had heard her name, tried to make eye contact with her again, to no avail.

Once dessert was finished. That would be his chance. Everyone would be free to mingle, pay their respects. He would go talk to her, even if he didn’t know what he would say.

His watchful eye on the blonde was momentarily suspended as he was roped into the conversation at the table, some commander insistent he tell _that_ story from the war. When he looked back, she was gone, and he panicked until he saw a flash of blonde turn the corner at the end of the room towards the bathroom. He almost got up to follow her then, until he reprimanded himself for his impatience.

He drummed his fingers along his knee, trying to distract himself with sips of wine. He sprung up, intent on just catching her on her way out from the bathroom. Besides, it would be a more private reunion in the corridor, he justified to himself.

He turned the corner, skidding to a stop to avoid colliding with the oncoming person. Not person. Madge. He was face to face with her now, her eyes blue, like the lake in the woods, he had told her once.

“Madge,” he whispered.

She blinked, looking right past him. “Excuse me,” she said, curtly. As if he was a stranger. She shouldered past him, leaving him sputtering.

Gale reached out suddenly, grabbing her arm. He wasn’t going to let her go, not this time. “Madge,” he said more firmly. “I just—” She whipped herself out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry.” She breathed out, struggling to maintain her composure.

How could she be acting like this? “Wait!” He caught her hand, pulling her to him.

Again, she detracted quickly, like he had burned her. She stalled, until finally, she searched his face. It was then he noticed her eyes shining wet. She shook her head. “Gale, I—”

Suddenly, he was on the ground, thrown back at the force of a punch to his cheek, the fist skidding across his nose. Pain bloomed and warmth burst from his nose. He deftly brought his hand to his nostrils, wincing. His fingers came away dripping crimson.

“Cull!” Madge yelled, her hand pressed to the chest of a large uniformed man, who was shaking out the offending hand, still seething at Gale. Behind him, two other uniformed soldiers bounded forward, each taking hold of an arm.

“What the fuck, Cull?” the small brunette at the brute’s side shouted. The other soldier was lankier and younger, obviously shaken by his enraged comrade, still struggling against their grip.

“Wasn’t gonna let him get away with touching Captain like that,” he said through gritted teeth.

In the chaos, Gale made eye contact with Madge, who mirrored his stunned expression, mouth agape. Strangely, he felt a smile creep on his face. 

“I see you found yourself some new muscle, Undersee,” he teased. At that remark, the broad-shouldered soldier suddenly lurched forward, kicking a foot out before the other two soldiers could pull him back. The steel-toed boot descended upon his face, jolting his head back and splattering blood on the linoleum floor.

His world pitched to black.


	3. Hospital Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a bit for me to update! This turned out not to be the chapter i was imagining, but im telling myself its okay lol. cut it a bit short to save some for the next chapter which will definitely come out a lot quicker than this one.  
> As always, thanks for reading!

Gale woke with a groan, stirring slowly underneath the white cotton sheets. 

At his movement, Madge shot up from her chair across his hospital bed, the metal legs screeching back. “Colonel Hawthorne,” she said, alarmed. She swallowed thickly, smoothing her palms down her pleated trousers of the same uniform she had worn at the gala. Her posture stiffened and she raised her hand in salute, still attentive to military protocol. After all, Gale was a superior officer—regardless of their history. 

Peering at the blonde through squinted eyes, Gale let his eyebrows raise when he recognized his visitor.

“Captain Margaret Undersee.” He nodded his head, grimacing at just that short range of motion, but waved a hand for her to relax. As she dropped her salute, he grinned. “Come to finish what your lieutenant started?”

Mouth agape, Madge cocked her head at his blatant nonchalance. Wasn’t he angry? After taking a beating like he did, anyone would be angry—especially the Gale Hawthorne she remembered. He would be boiling over with spite and yet, the man bruised before her seemed to hold no malice. This playfulness was unexpected. She regained her composure. “I do not condone the actions of my lieutenant, Colonel. My reigning officers sent me. They believe an apology is in order on behalf of my soldier.” She cleared her throat, embarrassed by how callous that sounded. She corrected herself. “ _I_ believe an apology is in order.”

Gale sat himself up, wincing. Still, he seemed amused by her formality. “Go on.”

Madge was prepared—she spent the last hour mulling over this apology while she waited for him to wake up. The lines flowed easily. “I apologize for any and all physical and mental damage my lieutenant has caused you. His action goes against everything we stand for in the 702nd, and I strive to instill in my company that this sort of violence is intolerable. Nothing like this will ever happen again.”

Gale huffed. “Considering the unusual circumstances around my assault,” he paused, giving her a pointed look. “I accept your apology, Captain.”

“Thank you,” she breathed out.

“But—” he interjected, making her straighten up again. “I do want to know why _you_ are here, and not your soldier.”

“Of course,” Madge obliged. “I just spent 5 hours in and out of meetings with him and Corrections. They said it was best if he left as soon as possible. I guess they don’t want a disgraced soldier staying in a fancy hotel room they paid for.” She shrugged. “So, he’s on his way back home. His sentence will be decided later, but it will most likely be a dishonorable charge.”

Gale hummed. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure a soldier with that good of a punch is handy among your company. I don’t imagine you taught him that?”

Madge felt the tension in her shoulders ease. “No, he joined with a knockout punch already. Can’t take responsibility for that.”

“Figured. How about kicking someone while they’re down? Please tell me you didn’t teach him that either.”

She held back a grin, shaking her head. “That either.”

“Huh.” Gale stuck out his bottom lip as he nodded. “Glad to hear that.”

They were both quiet for a moment, somewhat uncomfortable with how easy it was to rally with each other again. Madge spoke first. “So… Why are you still here? I spoke to the nurse when I arrived, and they told me you were just in for a CT scan. But that was hours ago.”

Gale sighed, a smile still playing at his lips. “Captain, do you know how tiring it is to get knocked out like I did? Imagine, blacking out for a whole two minutes, but when you wake up, the girl you wanted to see has gone off with the man that has got you bleeding.”

Visibly flustered, Madge tried to defend herself. “I had to reprimand my lieutenant and I—”

“Hey, I know,” he interrupted her. “It’s just, you understand why I might need a nap after all that? On top of the file reports, the wound dressings, the CT scan.”

Madge let out a short laugh. “And they haven’t kicked you out of this bed because…”

Gale shrugged. “Apparently, being something of a celebrity gets you perks in this hospital.”

“Lucky for you,” she said quietly.

“Lucky me.” Gale whistled, drumming his thumbs on the mattress. Madge fidgeted under his look as he studied her face, his grey eyes glinting.

“Well,” she said sharply, cutting the stillness between them. “Thank you again, Colonel Hawthorne. I’ll take my leave now.” Gale had his mouth open to speak, but as she strode to the door, she heard only her heels on the linoleum. She stopped once her hand touched the doorknob.

“He was a good soldier,” she blurted out, pivoting to Gale, still speechless on the bed. “He has a bad, bad temper, and is maybe loyal to a fault, but he really is a good soldier.” She dropped her head to study the floor, unsure why she felt compelled to share this. “I’m sorry this happened. To both of you.” She looked back up, meeting Gale’s gaze.

“I understand,” Gale assured her. The frivolous undercurrent that had been running through this entire conversation had finally dissolved. Now, he spoke in a low voice, the same tone he had used at the gala. “The loyalty. The temper. I had both once.”

“I remember,” she replied, not missing a beat.

“For what it’s worth,” he sucked in a breath, “I’m sorry, too.”

At this admission, Madge clenched her jaw. She had imagined this moment, at her most desperate times in the Capitol’s holding cells. Sometimes, when her naivety resurfaced, she still believed he was her knight, who had promised but just hadn’t yet delivered. In her dreams, there was a brilliant scene of broken doors, streaming light, a tearful reunion. Then: his apology to her. _I’m sorry for leaving you behind_ , he would say. _I’m sorry for not coming sooner._

A mere month had broken that visage of him as her savior. In its place, she constructed a new man of broken promises, of fickle intentions, of fire. She couldn’t deny that seeing him, bleeding and dazed, had roused some small satisfaction in her, the part that had built him up to be the cause of all her suffering, all the pain endured during the war. It was easier to hate him, than to hold onto the hope of his return. In her rewritten fantasies, their reunion had him on the floor, as he was at the gala. She had wanted his blood on her hands, for him to fall.

A small part of her had wanted that. In the flesh, she found that part of her was cast away swiftly, and she had trembled at the sight of his unconscious face bleeding. But she couldn’t acknowledge the apology—doing so would unearth what she had worked so hard to lay to rest. Between the lines, Gale had already stirred something better left asleep. She refused to help him awaken anything further. Instead, she gave him a curt nod. “Goodbye, Colonel Hawthorne.”

“Madge,” he said, like it hurt him to say her name. Although she had heard him say it at the gala, her first name on his tongue still rattled her, like hearing an old song finally remastered. The sound didn't just live in her memories anymore, fuzzy. It was crisp.

"Yes?" 

“Come by tonight?”

“I don’t know, tonight is—”

He cut her off. "I live just a couple blocks from here, at The Elm. Tallest building in District 2. Can’t miss it. I live on the top floor, so just tell the front desk you are visiting me, and I’ll buzz you in. They’ll take you up themselves, too, if you want,” he strung the directions together quickly, then paused. “Please,” he added, pleading. 

Madge sighed. “Maybe.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then,” he said resolutely, his lips pressed into a line.

She gave him a weak smile, corners of her lips just twitching up. Her eyes roamed his bruised face for another moment before she turned the doorknob and slid into the hallway, streaking to the elevators.

Once the elevator doors shut, she fell to her knees, bracing a hand on the steel wall for support. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, her mind a cluttered mess. _If only Cull didn't act on his stupid fucking impulses,_ she thought, _I wouldn't be missing a lieutenant and I wouldn't have had to see Gale Hawthorne's face ever again._ Madge shook her head, incredulous at the thought of his invite. 

Back in her hotel room, she stripped out of her uniform, collapsing into the soft down of the bed. Gale was right—not that he would see her tonight, but that this ordeal was exhausting. She quickly slipped into sleep, eager to void the visions of Gale lounging in some cushy penthouse, still bandaged and bruised, waiting. 


	4. Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To try to amend for the previous filler chapter, here is the next one! I think something substantial/more satisfying happens in this one, but i am still trying to figure out how to make sure tht is happening in each chapter. hope this one delivers.

Madge took a sip from her glass bottle, grimacing. She cradled the sweating bottle in her two hands as she tried to count the number of drinks she had already finished. Three? Four? The pulsing beat of the dance music blasting through the bar, compounded by the onslaught of shouting voices, made it difficult for her to remember. Her hand was dripping with the bottle’s condensation, and she brought it to her forehead to cool herself as she shook her head.

She shouldn’t be here. But Madge felt she had owed it to her lieutenants, who had woken her merely an hour before, fists rapping on her hotel door. In other circumstances, she would have sent them back to their rooms, chiding them for disturbing her sleep. In these circumstances, Madge felt guilty for the gala gone awry—her lieutenants hadn’t seen her since she had whisked Cull away to Corrections. After debriefing them on Cull’s fate and seeing their sullen faces, she had suggested they go out drinking in District 2’s nicest bar. She regretted it now. Only after several toasts to their captain, Frankie and Len had unleashed their flurry of withheld questions about Gale Hawthorne. The copious amounts of liquor they had encouraged her to drink left her unguarded. Truths slipped out. She couldn’t remember what she had divulged anymore. Surely, it couldn’t be everything?

Madge thought to ask her lieutenants for a refresher. She looked across the table to Frankie and Len, speaking in strained shout-whispers to one each other. Their eyes kept flitting past Madge, towards the entrance. Suddenly, Frankie’s eyes grew wide and he nudged Len, who fixed on someone behind their captain and waved. Curious, Madge turned to see who Len had waved at.

Scanning the sea of bodies undulating by the front, she froze when she spotted him, his brown curls and bruised face unmistakable in the crowd. She whipped back to face Frankie and Len, feeling sobered by the sight of him.

“What’s Gale Hawthorne doing here?” Madge demanded.

“Okay, so he called us back at the hotel, gave his condolences about Cull, said he forgave him.”

Len snorted. “Not that that helps the situation Cull made for himself…that dumbass.”

He shushed her. “Considering what Cull did, we thought it was sincere. And,” he paused. “He asked about you.”

Madge felt her anger rising. “He seemed _sincere,_ so you guys set me up for an ambush?”

“Hey, no—” Len raised her index to object. “He told us the story about you two. But at that point, we have nothing to cross reference it with, right? Who knows if he’s telling the truth. So, we tell him: Sorry, but beat it.” She took a swig from her glass, then tipped it towards Madge. “But then, _you_ tell us the same story. And it matches his.” Len slapped a hand to her chest, gasping in exaggerated surprise, then relaxed her face just as abruptly. “That’s when we set up this ambush.” She smirked. “I called him up when I excused myself to the bathroom earlier.”

Madge shook her head, in disbelief with this betrayal from her lieutenants. She slammed her bottle on the table, moving to get up. “You fucking—"

“Captain,” Frankie said in a careful tone, hand raised to calm her. “Maybe we overstepped. I’m sorry about that. It’s just…” Frankie sighed. “It might be nice to talk to someone from home, no? A friend from before the war?” His eyes searched Madge’s for understanding. “If I had that chance, I know I would take it.”

Madge hesitated before lowering herself down to sit again. She felt herself cooling off as a new nervous energy thrummed through her body. She knew he was due anytime now. “You two did overstep.” She pointed an accusatory finger at them. “When we get out of this goddamn bar, I swear, I’m gonna—”

“Hmm, really starting the party without me, huh Undersee?” Gale’s voice rumbled behind her.

Len rocked in her chair, shooting out her arms and legs with glee. “Ah, Colonel Hawthorne! We met on the phone, thank you for coming. You might’ve seen me trying—in vain—to hold back our comrade right before he knocked you out,” she said too brightly, making Madge cringe. She held out a hand. “I’m Lieutenant Atelier. But here, you can just call me Len.”

Gale gave out a gruff laugh. “Alright, Len it is.” He shook the brunette’s hand, then turned to Frankie. “How about you, solider?”

“Lieutenant Morrow. But please, everyone calls me Frankie.” As Gale leaned over the table to shake his hand, Frankie got a better view of the bruises and swelling on his face. “Shit, Cull really did a number on you, I’m sorry.”

“Please,” Gale waved a hand to dismiss him. “Your dear Captain already formally apologized. Came prepared with a whole speech and everything, I promise you.” He gave a short laugh. “You know, during my brief stint in the hospital, I was thinking: I had it coming, sooner or later. If it wasn’t your Cull, would’ve been someone else… Maybe even your own Captain.”

“Okay,” Madge finally spun around to face the man behind her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gale shrugged, giving her a wolfish grin. “Nothing. Just some friendly teasing.”

Madge only broke eye contact with Gale to turn back towards her two lieutenants, who were doing a poor job stifling their laughter. “I’m glad you are amused,” Madge said sternly, “Better enjoy it now before I deal with you two later.”

“Threatening your subordinates, Captain? I wouldn’t peg you as the type.” He raised his eyebrows at her mockingly. “What kind of company are you running, exactly?”

At the jest of her commanding capabilities, Madge bolted up to face Gale. She had forgotten he had nearly a head above her and had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. To compensate for her shorter height, she put a menacing finger to his chest. “Joke about anything else, Hawthorne, but my job is off limits.”

Gale gave a smug smile at Madge’s quick reaction. Before he could respond, Len cleared her throat. “I would love to get to know you better, Colonel, but I’ve drank my full so Frankie here is going to walk us back to the hotel,” she patted Frankie on the back, tugging on his jacket in one swift motion to force him on his feet with her. “If you could do us a favor, make sure Captain gets back okay? She’s had quite a lot to drink, too.” She winked at Gale, avoiding Madge’s fiery gaze.

Wide eyed, Frankie stumbled after the brunette who had a fistful of his sleeve in her hand, rushing to the entrance. “It was nice meeting you, sir!” An exasperated Frankie called out before disappearing into the crowd.

Madge’s arms had gone slack at her sides, head still turned in the direction Frankie and Len had fled. She swiveled to retrieve her bottle on the table, then threw her head back to chug the rest of the fizzing liquor. “So, you got me here,” she paused to wipe off a drop that had escaped past her lips. “What now?” Crossing her arms, she felt the liquor burning in her belly, surging through her.

“Usually I would love to stay, have a few drinks,” Gale patted the sticky pub table. “But I got my head beaten in last night, so it’s just a bit too loud for me in here.” He winced for effect. “You mind if we move our lovely conversation somewhere else?”

Madge gave a drawn out sigh before drawing her lips into a forced smile. “Lead the way, Hawthorne.”

“Happy to,” he obliged, snaking out of the bar into the cold of the night.

* * *

Just as she suspected, Gale’s penthouse was cushy. The elevator ride up had been maybe the longest she had taken in her life, and it wasn’t for nothing—the floor to ceiling windows gave a splendid view of the sleeping district, twinkling lights spread vast. She looked out on the district, trying to imagine Gale moving through its streets. She could imagine it easily; on the short walk here, he had done most of the talking, giving her an anecdote-filled tour of the places they passed by—his favorite bakery, his friend’s house, his local park.

“So what do you think?” Gale’s question pulled her from her thoughts. “Worth the ambush?”

Running one hand on his velvet couch and the other on a leaf of his potted plant, Madge answered. “Nice place you got here, Hawthorne. Celebrity perks at play again?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

He grinned at her. “Gosh, I hope not. They told me it was my unbeatable work ethic and smarts that got me this place.”

She nodded, trying to play along. Then, a black, shiny case caught her eye past his shoulder.

“A piano?” She took long strides towards it. 

“Oh yeah,” he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand, following Madge to the piano. They both hovered over it, neither daring to open the cover. “Have a lot of downtime. Doctors said it would be good for me to take up something new.” He hesitated. “You still play?”

He remembered? Her lips parted for a few moments before she could answer. “I haven’t, in long time. Not since…” She caught herself wringing her hands, then placed them behind her back, clasping tight.

Gale offered a small smile. Usually, when people gave her those no-teeth smile, just the corners of their lips pulled up, she loathed it. All she could see was pity in that type of smile. But Gale’s was different—she saw an honest understanding of her unease. He bent over to lift up and push back the case, unveiling the white and black keys, polished and unworn. “Go ahead, if you want,” he said softly.

Madge sat down on the piano bench. She swallowed, emboldened now with her fingertips ghosting the familiar ivory keys. “You know, I tried to teach Katniss once.”

At the corner of her eye, she noticed Gale flinch. “I didn’t know that,” he said gravely.

With her hands in position, she cautiously pressed her thumb down and weighted her foot on the pedal, letting the note linger in the air. As the final chime dissolved and the quiet returned, she spoke again. “Katniss gave up pretty quick. Said she would rather hear me play. I can’t even remember what I played for her anymore.” Madge was only whispering now, speaking more to herself than to Gale.

Gale was quiet, so she fumbled a bit of an opening sequence to an old folk song, one of the first songs she had learned to play. A clumsy rendition, but the melody flowed. Her fingers weren’t as confident as they were before, not as strong, but she felt awash in a different kind of power as she finished up the simple tune. She kept her hands poised and ready for a while, curled and light over the keys. Gale shifted next to her.

Remembering her audience, Madge moved her hands to tuck her hair behind her ears then deftly rolled down the cover to conceal the keys again.

“Thanks. That was… good,” Madge admitted.

Gale stuffed his hands in his pockets, a pained smile gracing his face. “Even after all these years of not playing, still better than me.” He coughed, rocking on the heels of his feet then pulled out a hand to glance at his watch. “It’s getting late, I better walk you back,” he said, already on his way to the front door.

Madge furrowed her brow, surprised by the abrupt end of this visit. She had felt Gale’s mood shift. But she was the guest and didn’t want to overstay her welcome, so she hopped off the bench, sweeping her hand over the piano’s smooth shell one last time.

* * *

Back outside, she shivered as they made their way down the sidewalk, her arms bound around her torso, still clad in the tank top she had chosen for their supposed night out. Gale was at her side, just close enough for her to feel the faint heat radiating off his body.

They had been walking in silence, so she nearly jumped when he started laughing. “Cold , Undersee? You’d think, with all those dresses you used to wear, you’d be used to this.”

She halted to a stop at that remark. “Why did you just say that?”

Gale stopped too, his face betraying that he realized he had said something wrong. “What? I just—”

“No, why are you acting like this?’

“Like what?”

“At the hospital. Back at the bar.” She threw her hands up. “Acting like…everything is back to how it was before, with the teasing, the joking. Like we are best of friends, again, or, or—”

“Geez, Madge, I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“No, you keep saying that, but you’re not!” Madge found her volume increasing involuntarily. “If you were, you wouldn’t have kicked me out like that. What was that? Was it the piano? Was it because I mentioned Katniss?”

“Shit,” Gale clicked his tongue. “I don’t know. Maybe both. I freaked out, okay?”

“Alright, so don’t play it cool with me! It’s been driving me fucking insane, how you have been acting like everything is fine between us when it’s not.”

“What am I supposed to do, Madge? Do you want me to just jump in and unpack with you the last 5 years of all the shit we went through?”

“No, but don’t act like nothing has fucking changed! We went through hell. I can say that without even knowing the details. But you want to revert to how we were before it all. That’s not us anymore, Gale.”

“Fuck—okay! You want to know how much it fucking rattled me to see you yesterday? I wasn’t expecting to see you, Madge. Not at the gala. Not _ever._ ” He paused, his jaw clenching. “I thought you were dead,” he spit out with a little more anger. “And then you show up, receiving an award for your military performance? Of all things? How the fuck did you survive or become this decorated military officer? Of course I’m wondering what happened to you these last years! But I also wanted to make sure it was you, really you. And it is.” His whole body seemed to deflate. “It’s still there. Whatever we had.”

Madge scoffed. “Whatever we had? What did we have, exactly, Gale?”

“You know! You know what it was. Don’t--”

“Yes, I know what it was. You needed someplace to put your feelings when Katniss was gone, and I was conveniently there. And when she came back, you…” Madge searched the face of man in front of her. ”You fucking ran back to her.”

Gale retracted like he had just been slapped. “Madge, that’s not what it was, and you know that.” He looked down at his feet, speaking hushed. “Whatever happened with Katniss, that’s all over. We don’t even talk anymore. The war saw to that.”

“I don’t care what happened during the war,” Madge said evenly, although she was surprised at the admission he and Katniss weren’t speaking. She remembered seeing him flinch, back at the piano, but that didn’t stop her from continuing. “I care that when it came down to it, you kept me in the dark as your little secret, like I was the other woman. You never told Katniss about us, right?”

“N—no,” Gale stammered. “When would I have? There was never a good time.”

“That’s the problem! There was never a good time for us. It wasn’t then. It’s obviously not now.”

Gale ran a hand through his brown locks, frustrated. “So that’s it? You show up, risen from the dead, play a little piano, and you expect me just to move on?”

“Well you should.” She bit her lip. “Because I’m leaving tomorrow, and I have no intention of coming back.”

“Shit.” Gale was laughing now, a low bitter laugh. “I didn’t realize your lieutenant did me a favor. If he hadn’t beaten me to a pulp, you would’ve never talked to me.”

Madge shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Why?”

Groaning, Madge twirled a golden strand around her finger. Gale watched, the habit familiar to him. “This is hard for me, Gale. Seeing you. You’re not the only one that’s rattled, I promise. I’ve made my new life, and you just remind me too much of my old one.”

Gale released a long exhale, his breath materializing white in the cold distance between them. He fixed his eyes on a scrawny weed pushing through a crack on the sidewalk as he spoke. “I understand. I really do. Maybe more than anyone else could. Isn’t that worth something?”

“Gale,” Madge pleaded. “If you really understand, then you know how much this—”

“Alright, alright,” Gale interrupted, sighing. “I get it. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Madge. I mean that. If this is what you want, I’ll lay off.”

Madge bit the inside of her cheek to try to stall the tears she now felt welling up. “Thank you. I’m sorry, that I can’t do this. I really—”

“Don’t—just don’t, Madge. You have already apologized for everything.” He held up a hand, before letting it fall weakly. “I wish you the best, that’s all.”

“I…” Madge tried to find the words. Ultimately, there was nothing good to say. “You too. And… I hope nothing scars,” she nodded towards his bruised and bandaged face. “It would be a shame.”

He let out one short laugh before shaking his head in disappointment. “Well, your hotel’s just two more blocks ahead. Get back safe.” He paused. “Goodbye, Madge,” he whispered as he turned to walk in the opposite direction.

“Gale?” She called out to him, already a couple feet away. He only hummed in reply, stopping but not bothering to turn around. “I was wondering…What did you tell Frankie and Len? They said you told them a story about us. What was it?”

She waited as he tipped his head towards the sky, as if to project his answer to the dark above them. “I told them it was me, you and Katniss. And in the end, I chose wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, i reread parts of catching fire and found it pretty interesting tht madge and katniss ate dinner at each other's houses, katniss took her out to the woods while madge tried to teach her to play the piano.  
> my opinion, but suzanne collins really slept on this character. I really wish i coulda seen more of their friendship, but i tucked in tht canon detail in there to serve as someeee point.  
> Next chapter is a flashback chapter to CF times so I hope you are looking fwd to it like i am :)  
> thanks!


	5. Indebted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting! This chapter really got ahead of me, growing a lot bigger than I imagined. Also, I ended up rereading Catching Fire so I could make this fit into the canon timeline as much as possible,,, I know there was something going on behind the scenes, so here is my take on it. ((Also, you know I had to include a gratuitous strawberry scene, sorry))

The Games were over, as was summer. The trees were molting, warm colored leaves crunching underfoot as Madge followed Gale into the clearing ahead. It was fitting, Madge thought, carefully stepping where Gale’s foot had been before. The arena was a near mirror of the woods beyond the fence. With the Games finished, the arena dismantled, or destroyed—whatever the Capitol did with the arenas—it seemed right for the woods to transform, too. Autumn was here. Katniss would be home tomorrow. A lot was going to change, Madge could sense as much. So, it was only fitting that Gale, who had always refused to bring her to the woods despite her pleading, had invited her out to pick the last of the season’s strawberries.

He had shown up at the back porch at the usual time, when her father was locked away in his study and her mother was confined to her morphing-induced dreams, but he had declined her invitation to come up to her room. She had frowned, before he explained an alternative rendezvous: strawberry picking. “You’ll have to carry your own weight for once, Undersee,” he had said.

“You sure? It’s not a very wise business strategy to show your only paying customer how to get their own goods.” She had quipped back.

He had shrugged. “Guess this is no longer just business.”

Remembering that exchange, Madge felt a brief warmth rise as she glanced up at the back of Gale’s head, studying the brown curls and neck she had become so familiar with this past month. _No longer just business._ Madge would never admit this to Gale, but she had been doubting their relationship in the last week, as the Games neared its end and Katniss and Peeta were crowned victors. Understandably, Gale had been withdrawn, avoiding her gaze at school, breaking their weeks long streak of daily visits. She had begun to wonder if all the nights spent fumbling in the dark were mere transactions. Like the strawberries, was their time together just a trade, an attempt to hold onto some sweetness amid the horror of watching your friend suffer onscreen?

But yesterday, Gale had reassured her. She caught herself smiling at the thought. Ahead of her, Gale crouched down to pluck a bright red fruit from the low creeping green that grew in patches in the grassy knoll. He brought out a handkerchief, laying it in his cupped hand to collect more berries. When she caught up to him, she knelt at his side, knees at his thighs. “Wow,” she beamed, setting a hand on his back as she surveyed the red berries peeking through the leaves. 

“For you, Ms. Undersee.” Gale held out a strawberry towards her mouth, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Eyes narrowing, Madge seized up Gale’s offering. It wasn’t like him to be so chivalrous. “Really?” Madge asked in suspicion. Gale nodded, raising the strawberry higher. She finally relented, and begun to lean closer to the strawberry, only for Gale to swoop in first, stealing the first bite in front of her.

She let her mouth gape open as Gale made a big scene of chewing on the strawberry. “What?” Gale swallowed, grinning. “You were too slow.” Shaking her head, Madge smiled incredulously as he dangled the rest of the strawberry by its stem, taunting her. She watched as beads of juice precariously hung off the berry, right over her white dress.

“Hey!” Madge squealed, giggling. “Watch the dress!” She swatted his hand away, the strawberry juice dropping harmlessly on the pale of her thigh.

“Oops,” Gale said, wolfish smile. He swiped a finger over her skin casually, gathering the juice and bringing it to his lips. She rolled her eyes to feign indifference, but she knew he could see the blush she now felt blooming on her cheeks. She looked away as a snickering Gale brushed a thumb over her cheek. “It’s okay. I think pink looks good on you, maybe even better than white.” He winked.

“Ha-ha,” she said wryly, pushing her shoulder into his. “You’re in a very good mood today. Does it have anything to do with someone coming back tomorrow?”

She watched as his nostrils flare and his eyebrows knit in response, like Katniss’s homecoming was new information to him. He leaned on his elbows, letting his head hang back. “Honestly, I’m not sure.” Turning to her again, Gale had already reposed his unease for bravado—Madge could tell with his usual shit-eating grin now gracing his face. “Am I _really_ in a good mood, Undersee? Sort of ruins it if you point it out, don’t you think?”

“Gale,” She poked him at his side. “Come on, you knew we had to talk about it at some point.” 

Gale groaned, shooting her a look. “Fine,” he relented. “Of course I’m happy she’s coming back, I’m just…” he pulled a fistful of grass, throwing it to his side. He watched as a gust of wind carried several blades down the hill. “I’m nervous it won’t be the same. Especially with Peeta in the picture now.”

Sighing, Madge put her hand over his clenched one. “It might not be. I mean—we saw what she went through in there. But she’s still your best friend, Gale.” With her other hand, she put a gentle finger under his chin to bring his gaze back to her. “It might take some time, but you two grew up together. She’ll be back hunting with you in no time, I know Katniss. She can’t stay away from the woods.” She smiled. “And that includes you, her hunting partner. That’s a bond you two share that even Peeta can’t break, I would think.”

He gave a snort. “I guess.”

“No, you don’t have to ‘guess.’ You know I’m right.”

“Even if I did,” Gale sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I would never admit it. You get too smug when I let you be right. Gotta keep you humble, Ms. Mayor’s daughter.”

Madge let out a laugh, relieved Gale seemed to be put at ease. “I think it’s actually the other way around. I’m the one keeping _you_ humble.”

Gale surged forward suddenly, crushing a kiss to her lips. He pulled away, resting his forehead to hers. “I don’t know about that. A guy can get a little too confident once you let him sneak into your bedroom a couple of times.”

“Hmm.” She gave him another soft kiss. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“My plan’s working then.” He moved a golden strand away from her face. “Although sadly,” he let out a long sigh, “I’m starting my shifts in the mines this week. I’m not sure when you’ll get back to sneaking me in again.”

“That’s alright, I know this week’s going to be busy for me anyways. My father wants me at all the special events. I think we’re hosting Katniss for one of the celebratory dinners this week, too.” She waited for Gale to respond, but he only gave a small grunt in response. Shyly, she ran her fingers over his chin. “What’re we going to tell her?”

“I don’t know, but…” Gale looked momentarily distracted by something in the distance, before meeting her eyes again. “That’s a problem for later. For now, I have other things to attend to.” He grinned mischievously.

“Gale—” She tried to object, but he cut her off by abruptly pulling them both to lay in the grass, his hands firm at her sides to keep her close. He ducked, peppering her with kisses. Surrendering, she gave a contented sigh, letting her eyes drift close.

Beside them, the strawberries lay scattered, forgotten. The tangled couple blissfully ignored the blushing sky, an unmistakable tell that tomorrow was closer than they either wanted to admit.

* * *

_I had to do that. At least once._

He had surprised himself. This morning, he wasn’t even sure he was ready to see Katniss, out in the woods like old times. Gale had been sick of this entire week, condemning himself to the dusty depths of the coal mines everyday, allowing himself to assume the false title of cousin while he watched Katniss snuggle up with Peeta.

After an hour of internal debate, he had somehow dragged himself to the woods, uncertain who would be awaiting him there. Would it be his Katniss? Victor Katniss? Peeta’s Katniss? He seethed as he made the trek.

Everything melted away when he saw her. Same plaited hair, same olive skin. When she sprung into his arms, hiccupping, he held tight and everything became alarmingly clear. It was her, always her.

So he had kissed her. It wasn’t in the plan. It just felt right. Peeta be damned.

He supposed he always did this, let his body lead before his mind could stop him. But still, he was surprised when he found himself bolting away from a reeling Katniss and marching straight to the mayor’s house. Madge.

Now at her back door, Gale steeled himself as the memories of the blonde, which had been held at bay while he was with Katniss, flooded back. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t back out now. He weakly rapped at the door, hoping by some miracle that she wasn’t home.

The door swung open quickly, Madge giving a small “oh” as she stepped outside and shut the door behind her. “Hey.” She gave a wide smile. “I wasn’t expecting you. Shouldn’t you be with Katniss?”

Gale resisted the urge to tuck a loose lock behind her ear, an escapee from her loose bun, like a golden halo around her fair skin. He bit his lip. Madge was too soft for this. Too good. He would make this quick, for her sake. “We kissed, Madge,” he blurted out.

The blonde immediately withdrew back, her brows furrowing, smile gone. “What do you mean?”

“I kissed Katniss,” he swallowed thickly. “Just, having her back, alive and safe, I—”

“You’re serious?” She asked in disbelief. 

“I…” He hesitated a bit. “I just need to pursue it and see where it goes.”

“Pursue it?” He could see she was trembling. “What about Peeta?”

“That was all for the cameras. He’s just playing the part of the star-crossed lover.” He looked at Madge, searching for a new wave of sympathy. Nothing. She still only looked hurt. He tried again. “You said it yourself, Madge. I grew up with her. We just understand each other and--”

“Alright, throw my line back at me,” Madge interjected. “Especially when I was just trying to comfort you.”

Gale stalled, taken aback. He had known her to be fiery in a fight but not like this. “She did what she had to do to survive in there. That included playing the part with Peeta. And now that she’s back. Here…” He looked away. “I have to be there for her.”

“You don’t _have to_ do anything, Gale. You’re choosing to.” Madge spat. “If you’re going to do this, at least own it.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her obvious spite. “Do what? What am I going to do?” 

“I’m not stupid, Gale.” She was scowling. “You just kissed Katniss. And now you’re here. To end us.”

“Us? We were never exactly exclusive, Undersee.” Gale felt defensive. He had expected her to be more understanding. “I mean, surely you knew there was an end to this arrangement, it was only a matter of—”

"'This arrangement’?” She shook her head. “Fuck you, Gale.”

By now, he had heard her say that to him countless times in sport, at the height of their jests. This time, he felt it bite. “I just… I would’ve never been able to promise you anything,” he tried to explain. 

“Fucking—” Madge groaned. “Of course I knew we weren’t exclusive. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care that we never had a title. Or that we probably would have kept sneaking around. I. Didn’t. Care.” Her rage seemed to dissolve with that last word, and her next words came out in a whisper. “As long as I was with you, asshole.”

“That’s not fair, Madge.” She had let her head hang towards the ground at her last admission, and when she raised her head again he could see she was crying.

“Yeah, it’s not fair that I fell for you when really, this was all just about sex,” Madge said softly, which somehow made it worse. She didn’t sound angry anymore. Just…tired. “But I guess that’s what happened.”

“It wasn’t just about sex, Madge,” he insisted.

“Okay, Gale. Then what was it about?”

“I…” Gale rifled through his head again, straining to find the clarity he had before setting foot on Madge’s doorstep. It was gone. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

“But you’re sure about Katniss,” Madge swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “Guess it makes sense then. You should probably go now.”

“Madge, I’m not going to just leave you like this,” Gale knew he was bumbling, desperate. “If we could just—”

“No, I’ll be fine. It’s better if you’re with someone you’re surer of, anyways.” Gale was about to speak again, reaching a hand for her shoulder. She shrank back, opening the door. “Go, please. It’s alright.”

With the door open, Gale capitulated to the crying blonde. “How do I know you’ll be alright?”

“Just trust me, Gale.” She already started to slink away into her house. “It’s the least you can do.” With that, she clicked the door closed.

He stood there, stunned. It had to be done, but not like this. He immediately fell a swell of guilt and confusion but squashed it just as quickly. She asked him to trust her, so he would. Just as he would trust his instincts. That would make this all worth it. 

It was Katniss. It was her, always her.

* * *

Dark was descending. She had to hurry. At the doorway, Madge put down the box of morphling on the bench to pull on her boots, shaking. She couldn’t get the sound of his screams or the small glimpse of his bleeding back out of her mind. Earlier at the square, the bodies in the crowd had parted just enough for her to see him, just for a second. A second was more than enough. _Gale. Gale. Gale._ It would be alright, she assured herself. Mother’s medicine could help, if she could get there in time.

She heard the footfalls of her father coming down the hallway. “Where do you think you’re going? There’s a storm out there.”

“I know, I know,” Madge wrapped a scarf around her neck hurriedly. “I just need to make a quick trip to Katniss’s—”

“Margaret, what could possibly be….” He snatched open the lid on the cardboard box, the glass vials clinking together at the sudden movement. “Morphling? Did you steal these from your mother?”

“I didn’t, I promise,” she pleaded. “I’ll explain later, but I have to go now. I can’t just let him…”

Realization dawned on his face. “The Hawthorne boy.” She nodded, too afraid to speak. “Alright, honey. Go.” He opened the door for her. “Make sure no peacekeepers catch you with the box. Hurry and come right back.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she stepped out into the swirling white beyond her porch.

Clinging to the box, she rushed through the thick snowbank that had gathered, squinting to find some semblance of the road to the Victor Village. She could barely see, but she pressed on. Even as her teeth chattered, she could only hear his name. _Gale, Gale, Gale._

Somehow, she made it to Katniss’s front door, tripping only twice in her haste. Her pants were now damp, the cold biting as she pressed a finger to the doorbell, again and again. Finally, the door swung open, revealing a surprised Katniss with Mrs. Everdeen and Haymitch close behind. Madge pushed the box into Katniss’s hands,

“Use these for you friend,” she said as Katniss inspected its contents. “They're my mother's. She said I could take them. Use them, please.” She fled back into the snow just as a deep groan reached her from somewhere inside the house. _Gale,_ she thought.

Trudging back, she hardly noticed the stinging pink at her exposed nose and cheeks. Through shallow heaves she forced herself to pull her booted foot free with each step into the thick snow—it was all she could do to keep herself from collapsing under the weight of the falling snow and the echoes of Gale’s groans of pain.

That night, and many nights to follow, Gale’s screams and groans, accompanied by cracks of the whip, would be the symphony of her nightmares.

* * *

Gale recoiled as he passed the square still outfitted with the whipping post. It had been a month now, but he couldn’t help but flinch at the sight of it. Even now, with much worse horrors waiting for him in the future. Like the Quarter Quell, taking Katniss away again. As he turned away, he spotted a blonde figure coming down the road from the Victors’ Village, turning towards the mayor’s house.

His eyes widened in recognition.

“Undersee!” Gale called out to her. The blonde quickened her pace—was she really running away from him? “Madge!” He sprinted to catch up to her, skidding to a halt in front of the blonde, who was also forced to stop. “Almost lost me there,” he said between his big breaths.

“Shame I didn’t.” She deadpanned. He eyed her crossed arms and found himself missing her usual warm smile.

“How are you?” He asked amiably, though her indignance was not lost on him.

“Fine,” she replied curtly. “You look good, all things considered.”

“Just wait until you see my back,” Gale joked, regretting it when he saw Madge grimace. He scratched the back of his head. “Sorry.” He coughed to clear the air. “Mrs. Everdeen took real good care of me. I was very lucky.”

Madge just blinked. “Yup. Very lucky.”

“Yeah…” Gale tried not to let her coldness faze him. “So, what are you doing here? Visiting Katniss?”

“Just to drop off some Capitol newspapers for them to read. Thought it might help them prepare. You?”

“Papers from your father’s study? So you’re a smuggler now.” Gale paused, waiting for Madge to quip back as she usually did. When she didn’t, Gale felt himself flush with disappointment. “Well, that’s very nice of you. I’m their snares teacher today, I guess.”

“That’s very nice of you,” she repeated back. “Good luck with them. Haymitch isn’t drunk for once, so that should make things easier.”

“Well, that’s good news. Haymitch can get a little testy when he’s drunk.”

“No, he’s just as testy sober.” She kicked a muddied pile of snow, a drop inadvertently spotting the leather of his boot. “Only now he won’t have a good excuse when he falls asleep during your lesson.”

Gale scoffed. “I’m sorry, but that would never happen. I’m a very captivating teacher.”

“Sure,” she said, unconvinced. “Anyways, you can thank Peeta for keeping your pupils away from the alcohol. He dumped all their liquor after the announcement.” He tried to catch her eye to convey his genuine surprise, but she kept them fixed at some point beyond his shoulder. “Everyone’s doing their part. Even Peeta. Maybe he’s more than just the star-crossed lover, huh?”

Gale balked at that jab. “I’ll thank him.”

Madge hummed. “Do that.” Gale opened his mouth to speak to… what? Defend himself? Apologize? Before he could reorder his thoughts, Madge was already bidding him goodbye. “See you around, Gale.” She brushed past him quickly, leaving him to his feelings, jumbled and blistering. Admittedly, Madge has played her part well, knowing just what to say.

And what was his part? His part was to be there for Katniss, helping her survive, as he had done his entire life. That was his final decision. He wasn’t going to let Madge get in his head, make him feel guilty for that.

As Gale watched the blonde disappear around the bend, he forced himself to think about the knots and loops he planned to teach the three victors today. Over, under, through. Then around once, three times. Tight and bound. Inescapable. Even Katniss had said he had a natural talent for snares; once a trap was set, he could catch anything, anyone.

But if that was true, how had Madge Undersee slipped through?

* * *

Madge sat on the steps of the Justice Hall building, slumped over her knees with her hair a curtain around her head. She stiffened as she heard someone sit next to her, and reluctantly brought her head up to see who it was.

“Gale,” she breathed out. Any other day, she would have gotten up and left. But today was Reaping Day. Katniss was gone, again, leaving everyone without goodbyes, leaving everyone shattered. She could see it now on his fallen face. “You doing okay?”

“You know.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t come to talk about her. I wanted to say thank you. For the morphling. When I saw you last, Haymitch hadn’t told me yet. I acted like an idiot.”

She recalled their last conversation. That’s right. _Lucky,_ he had said. She said nothing.

“I… didn’t know that you did that for me. I swear, if I knew, I would’ve—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted. She wasn’t interested in hearing what he would’ve done. Not anymore. “I’m not mad about something you didn’t know. You were delirious. Anyone would have been, with that whipping you took.” 

“I know, but still…” He trailed off but made a point to look her in the eye. “Thank you, for saving my life. I know you didn’t have to, and I really didn’t deserve it. Especially not after…”

“Katniss is my friend. I did it for her.” Madge tore her gaze away. “She would’ve been broken if anything happened to you.” _I would’ve been broken,_ she didn’t say.

“Well, I owe you. If you ever need someone to watch the Games with…”

She laughed. “I think we’re past that now, aren’t we?”

“Sorry. You’re right.” Gale chuckled a little, before returning to his serious tone. “I’m indebted to you. I owe you a _life_ , Madge. If there’s ever some trouble, I’ll be there. I promise.”

And she believed him.

* * *

Madge set her phone down to the receiver on her desk in her barrack’s office. She twisted the cord around her fingers as she tried to make sense of her phone call with the officer from Corrections. _We have decided to drop the court-martial against your lieutenant, at the request of Colonel Hawthorne. His discharge will only be administrative. We trust these special circumstances remain undisclosed beyond you and your lieutenant, Captain._

It didn’t make sense. Special circumstances? As much as she was happy that Cull skirted the court martial, she loathed the implication of what this meant. Gale had used his perks, somehow. He done her a favor. And she knew the favor was no small feat, surely. Cull was on track to be tried by court martial, probably condemned to never be employed with that severe of a mark on his record. This was not trivial. Cull’s professional life was just saved by the man he had bloodied. Why? 

Her mind raced back to their conversation at the steps of the Justice Building, all those years ago. Suddenly, she understood.

He had made good on his promise.

Maybe it was time to finally let it go. 

Or, maybe it was time to go home.

She picked up the phone, fingers hovering over the buttons to dial a number she never thought she would again.

Madge worried her lip as she listened to the trilling of the phone. She had nearly given up hope that he was going to pick up before she heard the ringing abruptly cut.

“What?” A gruff voice answered.

“Haymitch,” Madge said. “It’s me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oop, well I know I'm dragging this out, but everlark and haymitch to make an appearance next. I've decided to cap this fic at 7 chapters, but writing this is really one of the most fun things I get to do lately, so I really appreciate you reading! hope you are all taking care of yourselves at this time :)


	6. The Victors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sososooso sorry that I dropped the ball on this and didn't update for over 2 months. I hate when tht happens to fics I read, so I feel horrible for letting this happen to my own!!! I really put off writing this because really, there is not much Gale and I felt bad having you all wait on a chapter where I just wanted Madge to interact with Katniss and Peeta and Haymitch .... 
> 
> But here it is, finally stayed up to work on it and its kinda meandering and i dont know what plot is but !!! one ch closer to the end so yipee  
> thank u for tuning in! I hope this is kinda enjoyable?? (not sure its worth the wait bc i made u wait way too long but) 
> 
> ((also, its like 6 am and i didnt proofread... i will proofread after i catchup on sleep, sorry to any earlybirds who read this and find all my typos)))

On the train, Madge tried in vain to fall asleep on her own, trying to douse the burning fear at the back of her mind before reluctantly downing a couple of sleeping pills.  _ Just like mother,  _ she had thought involuntarily as she struggled to swallow the pills. 

She hated having to submit to some tiny capsules of chemicals, but she had no choice. Her whole body had been shuddering at odd intervals. Madge, as much as she hated to admit, was nervous. 

And she had never been one to be nervous riding on trains, entrusting the enormous steel bullets barreling down impossibly fast on thin tracks. For all her deployments, she had knocked out with ease on the train, even as her fellow soldiers fidgeted beside her, their anxiety over the unknowns of the destination weighing heavy on their minds. 

Wherever the train was headed, she reasoned, couldn’t have been worse than where she had been. Lurches, rattles, clangs. Any signs indicating something could be amiss never fazed her. As long as the train was moving forward, she could sleep soundly. 

But that was the problem with this train. It was heading back. 

* * *

_ Now approaching District 12. Passengers, make sure you gather your belongings and stay clear of the doors as we come to a stop.  _

A sleepy Madge, still resting her forehead on the glass window, pulled her gaze away from the blurred green outside. As she stood up to retrieve her bag from the overhead bin, she scanned the car. Before she had taken the sleeping pills back at District 1, she had started the trip with rows full of bustling passengers. Now, Madge stood alone in the empty car. 

No one’s interested in traveling to District 12, Madge supposed.  _ Least of all, me,  _ she thought. The plush train seats staring back at her nagged at her mind 

As the train slowed, Madge tapped her foot sporadically, her grip on her duffle bag tightening at her side. A bell sounded. Then a crisp, automated voice told her to stand clear of the doors. Madge let out a breath, looking down at her feet as if she wanted to check that she was behind the marked barrier at the door. The steel doors parted, and the familiar humidity of her home district quickly engulfed her.

Just as swift, a shout hit her. “Madge!” 

She skipped down the steps to meet the girl who had called out her name. It felt like a strange dream, and Madge stopped abruptly a few paces in front of her old friend, both hands wringing her bag’s handles. To compare, her mind pulled up its outdated composite of the brunette, a mashup of Madge’s last sightings of her, in person and on screen --seething as she was pulled away into the train after the Quarter Quell, then smoldering as she pulled back her arrow aimed for Coin’s heart. This girl in front of Madge was not seething or smoldering, but it was her. Even with her hair taken out of its signature braid, pinned up instead in a wispy bun, she was unmistakable as the girl on fire. The same ease of self-assurance graced her posture, despite the new tiredness that had settled on her face. 

“Hi,” was all Madge could offer. 

The other girl shook her head, amused with her shyness. Then, she let out a laugh before lunging forward for an embrace. 

“Katniss,” Madge exhaled as the brunette took her into her arms. As Katniss’s hands reassuringly spanned her back, she was surprised to feel a relief of tears well in her eyes. She had thought it trivial, that they had both survived. She had thought reunions of survivors futile, a meeting of people held back by their pasts. Now in Katniss’s arms, Madge knew she was wrong. They were alive and together despite all the improbabilities, and Madge let herself cry. 

“What took you so long?” Katniss whispered into Madge’s hair. “Asshole.” 

It was Madge’s turn to let out a teary laugh, but she otherwise remained silent as she let Katniss hold her. She couldn’t begin to answer that question anyways. Over Katniss’s shoulder, Madge spotted a smiling Peeta approaching steps behind, his figure more gaunt than she remembered. “Peeta,” she said as she returned his smile.

“Geez, Katniss, you’re gonna crush her,” Peeta teased. Madge heard Katniss click her tongue, squeezing her a few more counts before releasing her to Peeta. Trying to discreetly wipe her face, Madge avoided looking at Katniss again, but she thought she heard a faint sniff from her and Peeta pulled her in. 

“Hi, Madge,” Peeta said gently. “Welcome back.” Peeta’s hug was less tight and much shorter than Katniss’, but somehow felt just as tender.  _ That was Peeta for you _ , Madge thought. 

“There she is, back from the dead.” A voice sounded as she pulled away from Peeta, followed by a slow, indulgent clap. “My goddaughter, everyone.” 

Madge turned and tilted her head to the man clapping beside her. “Hello, Haymitch,” Madge said curtly, though a trace of a smile pulled at her lips. This time, she was the one that went in for a crushing hug, shamelessly wetting the cotton at the shoulder of Haymitch’s sweater as she cried some more. 

Katniss and Peeta quickly panned between the blonde and their old mentor, both still puzzled by the exchange. “Goddaughter?” They asked in unison. “He’s kidding,” Katniss whispered to Peeta with scowl. 

Haymitch gave a low laugh as he pulled away from Madge to offer her a handkerchief from his back pocket. “Sweetheart--” 

Madge accepted the handkerchief gratefully, then interrupted to defend him. “No, it’s true. My mother wanted it to be Haymitch.”

Peeta squinted in thought. Katniss frowned. “But why …” she started.

“For her sister. The one in the Games with Haymitch,” Peeta said softly to Katniss. Then, he looked up to the blonde, still holding the handkerchief to her shining face. “Your Aunt Maysilee, right?” 

Madge gave a nod, letting the corners of her mouth lift into a small smile. 

Haymitch gave a gruff laugh. “Peeta was always better at these things, wasn’t he? After all these years, you’d think you’d catch up just a little there, sweetheart. Guess not.” He shot Katniss a look, to which the brunette glared back. 

Peeta rubbed Katniss’s back in consolation, and although Katniss’ face remained twisted in a scowl, Madge noticed how she leaned into his touch. At this sign of affection, Madge’s face broke out into a big grin, catching Haymitch’s eye. 

“Well, what’re you grinning about, cheshire cat?” Her godfather prodded. 

She contemplated telling the truth or not. It would be easier to hold her tongue, surely. But she was here, wasn’t she? That meant she was willing to talk, to be open again. That was the whole point of this trip. “I wasn’t sure what I’d come back to here.  _ Who _ I’d come back to. But…” She considered her next words carefully, hyper-aware of the three victors watching her. “You’re all like I remember.” 

There was still silence for a moment. “Oh, dear Miss Captain Undersee,” Haymitch said a little ruefully, running a hand over his stubbly chin. “You, of all people, should know that’s just not true.” 

Madge looked down at her shoes, head hanging with the weight of how aloof she had sounded just then. The glee of the reunion was starting to wear off. “I guess I have some catching up to do, then, haven’t I?” 

“Yes.” Katniss answered and Madge looked up.

Katniss’ steely eyes met hers, and for a second, Madge swore she recognized the same flash, gleaming over gray, from a different set of Seam eyes. Yes, she had seen that flash exactly once, at the Gala in 2. 

His eyes, and now Katniss’, had shone.

Shone as if they were looking at a ghost. 

* * *

“And this…” Katniss said, cracking the spine of the frayed book in a vain effort to keep it open on the coffee table,“is your page, dead girl.” 

Madge swallowed, shifting next to Katniss on the couch. Averting her eyes from the book, she studied the living room walls, painted a gradient of sunset hues, a stark contrast to the forest hued walls of the dining room where they had spent the last hours eating and reminiscing. 

With Haymitch and Peeta there, the conversation had barely strayed into the hard stuff. But now, it was just her and Katniss. They had both settled into the jarring reality that the other was alive. Madge could tell Katniss was done traversing just the easy stuff. 

So accordingly, Katniss had brought out the memory book. As soon as Katniss had told her about the book she and Peeta had created together, Madge knew she was going to make an appearance. The book had started with the mass of tributes Katniss and Peeta remembered: some alive, mostly dead. Katniss had turned the pages quickly, pausing only to point out those whose faces she still saw in her nightmares. She had recognized Marvel, Glimmer, Finnick, Annie. The rest, whether depicted in grainy photographs or in Peeta’s delicate sketches, seemed to melt together. Katniss had dwelled on a few more photographs, introducing her to Annie and Finnick’s baby, then more intimately to Cinna. With every page turned, Madge had grown more hot, anxious that her face was next. 

She had been waiting for her page. And here she was, finally. 

_ Margaret “Madge” Undersee,  _ someone had written in looped script next to a charcoal sketch of her. It was only a bust portrait, but she was clearly wearing a ribbon in her hair and the frilled white reaping dress Gale had called out all those years ago. In the corner, under some text she couldn’t bring herself to read, was a small watercolor scene of a strawberry sitting next to the infamous mockingjay pin. 

“I suppose it needs an update,” Katniss deadpanned as she squinted at the text on the page. “Turns out you aren’t dead.” 

“Guess not,” she said lamely. 

“Although,” Katniss stabbed a finger at the portrait of Madge. “I’m not sure about her. That Madge, the one with ribbons and frills? She might be dead.” 

Madge was taken aback by Katniss’ sudden levity, but tried to play along. “What, you don’t think I could still pull those off?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “You’re a military officer, Madge.” She gave Madge an exaggerated once over, wrinkling her nose. ”Even though you’re off duty, you came here wearing all  _ olive _ . You can imagine why I’m doubtful.”

“Alright, you might be right.”Madge let the silence wash over the two of them. 

Katniss hummed, like she was a little disappointed Madge hadn’t continued the jest. She tried again. “I mean, do you even still like strawberries?”

Madge smiled a little at that. “I do, Katniss. Yes.” 

“Good,” Katniss said evenly. “I was thinking I could take you to the meadows. Since you’ve never been, even though you’ve eaten plenty. There’s still a patch of strawberries growing out there.” 

The meadows.  _ Gale.  _ Madge opened her mouth, about to speak, before closing it again. 

Katniss didn’t seem to notice Madge’s hesitation, and continued. “It’s a bit smaller than it was before, but it’s there.” Katniss splayed her hands over the page, seemingly in thought. “And I even took you shooting a couple times. I don’t know why I didn’t think to take you then. I didn’t, right?”

“Right. You didn’t.” Madge worried her lip, feeling compelled to tell the truth. It slipped out, quick and quiet. “Gale did, though. Once.”

Madge watched Katniss as she froze beside her. “Gale.” Katniss clicked her tongue, shaking her head slowly. She brought her eyes up to meet Madge’s. “Y’know, I always suspected something. But I never really wanted to think about it.” 

“I always thought that maybe he’d--” Madge started. 

“Madge,” Katniss cut her off. “If I’m being honest, I… I still don’t really want to talk about him.” 

Madge set her hand over Katniss’. “Haymitch told me, before I came. I understand. I’m late, but… I’m sorry, Katniss.” 

Katniss let out a long exhale. “She’s a couple pages after you. A whole two spreads.” Katniss closed the book in her lap. “Maybe later?”

“Of course,” Madge said carefully. “You and Peeta did a beautiful job with the book. The sketches, the photograph, the watercolors. Everything.” 

“You liked the mockingjay pin on your page?” Katniss gave Madge a small smile. 

“I did, thank you,” Madge beamed. “Giving you that pin was probably the most important thing I’ve ever done.” 

“I did always wonder, Madge,” Katniss waited a moment for Madge to give an acknowledging grunt. “Did you really not know what the mockingjay symbolized when you gave it to me?”

Madge snickered a bit. “I remember you asking me that,” she said sort of distracted before snapping back to the present. “I don’t think I did and I learned quickly that that wasn’t the case. That Madge was… a little oblivious.” 

Katniss hummed. “And this Madge…” 

“I’m sorry, I really owe you some explanations about what happened.”

“At your own pace,” Katniss said uncharacteristically sagely. Or maybe that was in Katniss’ character now? Searching Katniss’ face, Madge realized that Haymitch was right--they weren’t the same as she’d remembered. Of course not. “Look, I hold nothing against you. I get it. However long it took you to get here--I’m glad you did.” Katniss held Madge’s gaze. “I just wish you had come sooner.”

* * *

The next day, Madge chose to stay in with Peeta as Katniss went out to hunt. Together, they stood barefoot on the cool tiled floor of the kitchen, measuring flour, adding yeast, mixing the batter until it grew. Peeta showed Madge how to knead the dough, both of their sleeves rolled up. She palmed at the dough, her forearms firing, enjoying the distraction of this manual labor. 

Madge’s concentration was broken by Peeta clearing his throat, stilling his hands in the dough. “I’m sorry Madge, it’s been bugging me…” 

“Go ahead,” Madge gave Peeta a reassuring smile as she brought her sleeve to the sweat that had collected at her forehead. 

“I just…” Peeta clenched his hands suddenly, dough blooming out of his fists. “I hate… I hate that you were in the Capitol, while I was there… and I never even knew. I could’ve seen you… Heard you…” 

Madge took an involuntary breath in. She was not expecting this from Peeta. Yesterday, Katniss had skirted around everything. Peeta, on the other hand, was so… direct. “It’s alright. I saw you,” Madge said after a while. “On the screens, at least. They played your announcements in our cells. You looked….” Madge trailed off, knowing there was no need to elaborate. “But, I was thankful to know you were alive.” 

“They rescued us, you know?” Peeta returned to kneading the dough again with a new fervor. “The victors, at least. They told us that was everybody. Of course, of course they had to leave some people behind.” 

Madge was surprised to hear her emerge so steady. “Peeta, it’s fine. You were all important to the cause. I was just the mayor’s daughter.” 

“But…Why were they even keeping you?” 

She thought for some time. How to answer? She had spent too many hours, days, weeks, dwelling on this question. Why did they keep her in those cells? Why did they keep her alive, after they had already killed her father, her mother? “I don’t know. Maybe they were just playing with me for sport. Maybe they wanted to use me for something but never got the chance.” She hated how unsure she sounded, but speculation was all she could offer, to both her and Peeta. With the cruelty of war, sometimes closure never came. “I’ve wondered about this myself, too, Peeta.” 

“They should’ve gotten you out, too.” Peeta said, as he started to flatten out his dough with a rolling pin in two clean strokes. “I think it would’ve helped to have another friendly face around in 13. Another… friend.” 

Madge just hummed. 

“Fuck,” Peeta said as something seemed to dawn on him just then. “Gale was on that rescue mission. He could’ve…” 

Madge bristled but tried to keep her cool. “We don’t even know if I was in the same building, Peeta. I could’ve been anywhere, really, so--” 

“Yeah, yeah. Details. How many torture blocks could the Capitol have had, though?” Peeta seemed distracted as he handed Madge the rolling pin. He wiped his floured hands on his apron. “Just, if Gale knew… ” 

“But he didn't.” Madge firmly cut him off, keeping her eyes focused on rolling out her dough. “And it wasn’t his job to come looking for me or anything.” 

Peeta seemed to look at Madge with fresh eyes. “It’s just…. He missed his chance  _ twice _ .” 

Madge’s head snapped up to look at Peeta. She squinted her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“To make good on his promise to you.” Before Madge could even open her mouth to ask, Peeta shrugged. “Haymitch.” 

“That bastard,” Madge swore under her breath. “And what else did he…” 

Peeta let out a laugh. “He told us enough, Madge.” 

“Us?” 

“Less to Katniss. More to me.” Peeta explained nonchalantly. Because of Katniss’ reaction at the mention of Gale’s name yesterday, Madge felt relieved. “Even if he won’t admit it, you know that man likes his gossip. He had to tell somebody.”

Madge groaned. “I don’t know what he told you, but--” 

“Hey,” Peeta said softly, as he deftly picked up Madge’s flattened dough and placed it over his. He began rolling it out again. “It’s alright. I had a feeling and Haymitch just confirmed it, that’s all.”

Madge watched Peeta work, as precise layers began to form. “And when did you get this feeling?” She really tried to think, but Peeta was barely around.

Peeta paused before cutting out the first circle in the dough. “Probably back when you pulled that stunt with the morphine.” 

“Shit.”

“I remember seeing you at the door that night, seeing how scared you looked,” Peeta had already lined the circles of dough onto a baking sheet. “And I just knew, something was going on. Because you looked how I felt whenever Katniss was hurt.”

“Oh.” Madge could only watch Peeta place the baking sheet in the oven, her twiddling fingers still sticky from working the dough. 

“Don’t worry. These,” Peeta pointed his thumb back at the oven, “are only one batch of four. There will be plenty to bring back to Gale.” 

Madge sputtered a bit. “ _ To bring back to Gale? _ ” She laughed, feeling a little ridiculous at the suggestion. “I’m sorry, Peeta. I had no plans to see him after this.” 

“But we made these  _ for  _ him.”’ Peeta said seriously, though he was grinning,. “I remembered that they were his favorite.” 

Furrowing her brow, Madge studied the rounds rising in the oven. “Biscuits?” She wondered aloud. 

Peeta shrugged. “You know him. A simple man.” 

“I’m not sure about that,” Madge grumbled. 

“Okay, so you’re not sure. That’s why you should go to him, Madge.” Peeta leaned on the counter, completely comfortable as Madge still stood in the middle of the kitchen, uneasy. 

“I don’t know. Me and him…” Madge shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “That’s all in the past, and I’m not sure I’m ready to revisit that.” 

“You came here, didn’t you? That’s something.” 

“Maybe.” Madge thought a moment more. “Peeta… How did you know that it would work out with Katniss again?” 

“I didn’t.” Peeta gave Madge a grave look. “And that was terrifying.” He turned his back to her, and started to rework the leftover scraps into one mass again. He was quiet so long Madge nearly thought he was finished talking. She jumped a little when he finally spoke. “But I just knew I’d be a coward if I didn’t try.”

That night, as Madge lay awake in the guest room bed, wasting hours away by tracing the cracks in the ceiling, a muffled scream permeated through the walls. Quickly, she sat up in her bed, the fear in the scream pricking throughout her body. She hurried to the source, the bedroom at the end of the hall. As she raised her hand to knock on the door, she heard shushing noises, followed by a lulling voice. 

At that, Madge dropped her hand and began to walk away. 

As her bare feet padded soundlessly on the wooden floors, she caught the tail end of Katniss’ voice, speaking in a soothing tone that Madge had never heard her use before. 

“I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re here, with me.” Madge overheard Katniss singsong. Katniss seemed to start again, but by then Madge was too far away, finally headed to bed with the resolve to sleep. 

* * *

The third day, Madge had asked Haymitch to give her the tour of the district, to see how her old haunts had changed. She wanted to see it all, even her old house. She thought toeing at the piled rubble at the site would give her some peace, allow her to reflect on this tangible representation of her pain in some way, but of course, Haymitch would have none of that. He had laughed when she was feeling comfortable being vulnerable and suggested it, assuring her that it had since been rebuilt into some shops.  _ No pile of rubble to reflect on _ , he had told her. 

He heeded none of her requests, and instead took her out to one of the ramshackle huts gathered where the Hob used to be. They sat at the dirty counter on teetering bar stools, but Madge noted how more developed even this seemed from the old rickety stands that used to be here instead. 

“Had to take you here because this place’s got the best roasted duck in the district, by far,” Haymitch waved at a weathered man behind the counter, who gave a smile before disappearing into the kitchen. “I’m a regular here,” Haymitch boasted to Madge.

“So I see,” Madge smiled. “I think I haven’t had roasted duck since before the war.”

“We’re taking care of that, don’t worry,” Haymitch wagged a finger at her, grinning. “Gee, you’d think they’d indulge our dear soldiers, those who defend the  _ New Panem _ , a little more.”

“You’d think.” Madge laughed. “No, really Haymitch, I’ve been pretty happy with the job.” 

“Good, good.” Haymitch busied himself with his glass of water as he nodded. “You know, I heard from a little birdy that a certain high ranking official gave up his job to trade in a favor.” Haymitch didn’t look up from his glass. “Everyone’s wondering--” he playfully clinked his glass to Madge’s “--what could’ve gotten into him, meddling in some lieutenant's case?” Haymitch clicked his tongue. “Even more curious…the case where the lieutenant assaulted  _ him.”  _

Haymitch looked to Madge, who had her mouth agape. “When’d you hear about this?” Madge asked, not daring to meet his gaze. 

At the corner of her eye, she saw Haymitch shrug. “Maybe a day after you had called me, saying you were coming home.” 

“And you…” 

“Put two and two together, honey. Of course, I knew you were involved. Give me a little more credit.” Haymitch scoffed, rendering Madge silent for a while. 

“I’ve been here for three days now, Haymitch. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

Haymtch hummed, a mischievous smile pulling at his lips. “Wasn’t so sure you wanted to know. But now, I get it. Whatever happened in District 2 has got those old feelings riled up, eh?” 

Madge blubbered. “I’ve seen him, yes, but--” 

Haymitch held up a hand. “Please, spare me the details. I saw enough of the ‘will they, or won’t they?’ shit for my lifetime mentoring those other two. Christ.” He shook his head. “And now, my own goddaughter…” he trailed off, breaking into a fit of low chuckles. 

“Why are you laughing?” Madge felt obliged to be defensive, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“It’s funny, what changes,” Haymitch said through a wide grin. “All those years ago, I thought the Hawthorne boy was playing you. And now, looks like he’s the one that has got the rug pulled out from under him.” 

Finally, she turned to Haymitch. Head on, Madge studied her godfather’s face. The crooked nose, the threaded lines over his forehead, the deep crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. His lips were pressed into a thin line, stern. Suddenly, Madge realized then: Haymitch was an old man. An old man who looked tired, tired of seeing all these young people condemn themselves to frivolous games of cat and mouse. She remembered what Peeta had said yesterday: _I’d just be a coward,_ so plainly saying: _you’d just be a coward_. And now, in Haymitch’s eyes, she could see his demand, clear despite the murkiness of his gray pupils. _Stop wasting your time,_ she knew he was inwardly screaming at her. 

“I…” She searched his eyes a moment more, though she needed no confirmation for what she knew was true. “I need to go back to 2,” she said resolutely. 

Haymitch nodded. “Atta girl,” he praised, giving her a soft clap on her shoulder. He took a big gulp from his glass. “Took you here because this is your final meal. There’s a train that leaves in three hours. We eat our duck, your stomach is happy.  _ My _ stomach is happy. We send you off, and… well, you know what to do from there.” 

“Haymitch,” Madge felt a swell of gratitude, though it was mixed with new apprehension. “I’m not sure I do.” 

“Sweetheart. I’m treating you to this meal. I told you the time you gotta leave, and why you gotta leave,” Haymitch leaned back in his chair, throwing up his hands. “I can’t give you everything. I’m your  _ godfather _ , not some fucking fairy godmother.” Haymitch chuckled. “Besides, didn’t mister baker impart some grand wisdom on you during your baking session? He gets all bold when he’s got dough in his hands.” 

“Alright, alright. You’re right, he did.” Madge laughed. She clinked her glass against his again. “Thank you, Haymitch, for being the best fairy godmother.”

“My pleasure.” Haymitch winked. “Make sure to tell Hawthorne what part I played in this. I used to give him so much shit for you.” 

Madge raised an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Of course,” Haymitch said. “I had my goddaughter to look out for.” 

“Tell me the story?” 

“Some other time,” Haymitch’s eyes were tracking the plated, smoking hot roast duck being carried towards them. “It’s time to eat.”

“Some other time?” Madge asked incredulously. “You just told me I have to leave in a couple hours.” 

“There’s always the phone, if you catch me at the right time” Haymitch said distractedly, the roast duck now in front of him. “Or, I guess you might just have to come back and visit to hear the story.” 

Madge smiled as Haymitch happily bit into the duck leg. “I guess I might just have to.” 

* * *

Madge found herself alone on the empty train car again, only this time, the jitters seemed to be gone. Watching the forest of her home district blur as the train pulled out of the depot and picked up speed, she rested her forehead on the glass again, bidding a silent goodbye. 

She slept soundly, sleeping pills stashed away untouched next to the bundle of biscuits in her bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever actually reads this, I hope you are all doing okay and well in these strange times! 
> 
> I promise promise to update the FINAL CHAPTER within at least 2 weeks!!! tht is my goal. because i love this ship, but i also feel like its time to end their story (yes sorry as u can tell from this ch it is heading into fluff territory hope u are all prepared)  
> but thank you for reading! it means a lot, esp after i abandoned this fic for a couple months there. See you soon!


	7. It's Bullshit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a liar. I said that I would make this the last chapter, and I said like a month ago I would post this. 
> 
> But here we are, a month later (maybe more??) and this chapter got way too long so yes, I'm sorry I snipped it in half soooo of course, there's another chapter to come!!!!! you have no reason to trust my word by now, but I swear ch 8 will be the final one. 
> 
> as always, hope this provides some entertainment/enjoyment. i do love them, and im glad u all share my love for them, too.

With his head still hanging towards the granite countertop, Gale raised his arm to beckon the bartender with a quick wave. In his peripheral, Gale could see the stocky redhead wiping his hands on the apron tied at his waist as he quickly strode over to Gale’s seat at the bar. 

“Another?” He asked. There was no trace of judgement in his voice. Gale appreciated that. In all the higher end bars in District 2--the ones with glittering chandeliers, seats that resembled an eggshell half more than actual chairs, and framed mirrors that were much too clean-- the bartenders always had this haughty air about them. When he was just looking to drink copious amounts of alcohol and spend the night slumped over the bar counter, Gale didn’t need the extra weight of disdain over his drinks. 

And tonight was one of those nights. So, he eagerly nodded to the bartender, even bothering to tip up his head to offer him a small, gracious smile. “Thanks.” 

He dropped his head again, trying to remember what number he was at. He should’ve been keeping track, he thought. He wasn’t exactly so liquid anymore, now that his job was gone. 

Gale had his fingers still curled around his glass, so he felt the cool return behind its walls as the bartender poured another drink. When he heard the splashing steam finally stall, he brought it to his lips quickly, taking a big gulp. 

As he set the glass back down, the bartender cleared his throat. “So, what’s got you down? A broad or such?” 

Gale let out a little chuckle. “Something like that.” He held the lip of the glass by his fingertips, quickly rotating his wrist to make the dark liquid into a whirlpool. “Thanks to your services, I’m starting to forget.” He grinned at the bartender, lying through his teeth. 

“That’s the idea, I suppose.” Passing a hand over a stubbled chin, the bartender gave a hearty laugh. “Well, let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Course,” Gale said, dropping his shoulders to slump again.  _ A broad.  _ Gale slightly grimaced. It didn’t quite seem to fit her. It was somehow too abrasive for the Madge with her white lace dresses and golden hair and slender fingers against ivory keys, against crimson berries. 

How could he forget? It was all too easy to remember. That was the problem. The Madge he had known in 12 was still preserved in his mind after all these years. A glorified version, he had to admit to himself. A golden girl. 

He could admit this, but still, he couldn’t quite shake the image of gentle Madge, innocent, bashful, blushing--even if she had treated him like shit the last time he had seen her. 

And who was Madge now? A captain. Strong. Cold. Hurting. Capable of hurting, but somehow still capable of being gentle. He played the memory of her playing his piano that night in his penthouse, before she yelled, pleading for him to leave her life with tears in his eyes. 

He leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head in contemplation. He felt his elbows jab into someone solid, who responded by roughly jostling his arms out of the way. “Watch it, drunk.” He heard a gruff voice spitting near his ear. “You fucking stink.” He was thrown off balance, and the liquor sloshed in his stomach. Gale steadied himself against the counter, feeling sick. 

Usually Gale would just shrug off jerks, but the room was spinning and he’d been on the near verge of figuring out Madge, and they had interrupted him. He swiveled around to face them, the sudden movement dizzying him. After swallowing some rising bile, he took a moment before calling out to the group, already a few paces away. “Piss off, you pricks.” 

That stopped the trio, who were wearing, he now recognized in the dim, strobing light of the bar, the army green of off-duty soldiers.  _ Shit.  _

They walked towards him, gleeful. The biggest one, his biceps stretching his military jacket, had a wide grin cutting across his face. Gale guessed he was the leader. “The drunk speaks! I didn’t quite hear him, did you?” He posed the question to his friends, identical in their buzzed heads and sharp jaws, who just cackled in response, shaking their heads. If the games were still around, Gale thought, they’d be training to be Careers, not serving. “See, we didn’t hear you. Help us out. What was that you said?” The man was towering over Gale now, brown eyes flashing expectantly. 

“I said,” Gale steeled himself, trying to sober himself up. But everything was so foggy, and he couldn’t come up with a clever response. “Piss off,” he huffed out in effort, “you pricks.” 

The guy stuck out his bottom lip, nodding. “Yep. That’s what I thought you said.” He grabbed the collar of Gale’s coat, forcing Gale forward. At this proximity, Gale could smell the alcohol on the guy’s breath, and scrunched up his nose in response. Behind him, Gale could see the two smaller friends watching closely. “Got anything else to say, then, loud mouth?”

“Yeah,” With the guy breathing down his face, Gale could finally feel the adrenaline amping him up. “Don’t fucking wear the jacket if you’re gonna act like entitled assholes.” He managed to spit out, his tongue feeling heavy in his own mouth. “It’s disgraceful. Fucks like you give servicemen a bad name.” 

The soldier whistled. “So you do got something to say! And what would you know about serving, sitting here drinking your life away?” 

“I did my time.” Gale held the prick’s gaze, the rest of the room gone fuzzy. 

“Is that so? In what company? For how long?” The obvious skepticism in his voice made Gale’s eyes narrow. He was about to open his mouth to shut him up, but just then, the bartender was suddenly behind him, voice stern and even. 

“Boys, lay off. We wouldn’t want to do anything to make me call my friend over there, now would you?” The bartender motioned to another beefy man at the door, who gave a stiff wave at the soldier still holding onto Gale’s jacket. The soldier stalled, seeming to contemplate his next move. His friend came up behind him, clapping a hand at his shoulder. 

“Let him go, Bruce. He’s not worth it.” The soldier roughly relinquished his grip, and Gale’s back hit the sharp edge of the counter. “Plus, you actually are a fellow serviceman, aren’t you?” The friend asked Gale, though he sounded like he already knew the answer. “Recently discharged?” 

“Resigned _ ,”  _ Gale corrected him, rubbing at the sore spot at his back. 

The bigger soldier whipped his head to his friend. “How do you know this shithead?” 

“I heard the higher ups talking about how some Colonel Hawthorne had been discharged. Special circumstances. Thought the name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.” The smaller soldier shrugged, then wagged a finger at Gale. “But I’ve seen your face before, on the television, next to the Mockingjay. And now it makes sense.  _ Hawthorne _ .” 

At the mention of the Mockingjay, Gale clenched his eyes close. He wanted to leave, but the alcohol was pushing him further, faster. He could feel himself at the precipice, before the spiral.  _ Fuck.  _ He was stuck in this seat, trying to ground himself in the dark behind his eyelids, but the prick was relentless, pulling Gale out again. 

“So we got a real hot shot here, huh? You knew the Mockingjay?” The soldier jeered. “What was she like?” 

“Boy, I said lay off,” the bartender said somewhere behind him as Gale cupped his hands over his face, still feeling too sick to act.

“I’m only asking him a simple question. What was she like? She was hot, I know that. Shame she went crazy after it all. That Peeta boy was lucky at least. You ever get some too?”

Gale gagged. His head pounded, and he rubbed his palms into his eyelids, trying to blur out his vision. He knew it was futile; the image of Katniss was only a mental one. But he continued. He couldn’t do anything--couldn’t defend himself, couldn’t defend Katniss--nothing but move his palms back and forth to keep him in the dark. 

“Boy, show some fucking respect! You need to leave, now.” The bartender was seething, Gale could hear. Gale could hear it all in the dark, as he applied more pressure, everyone’s voices too sharp, too biting. 

“Bruce, leave it. ” 

“After he answers the question, we will. Promise.” 

“Fucking--I gave you enough chances. Maurice!” 

“Let’s  _ go,  _ Bruce!”

“What, you hard of hearing?” A hand suddenly knocked Gale’s arm away from his face, sending Gale’s world off balance again. “I asked--” 

“We heard you, asshole.” A new voice said. 

Gale was trying to figure out where this voice came from, when he heard the sound of an impact, the unmistakable thump of a fist hitting a flesh. Then, a reflexive hiss. A gasp from another. “For my friend you’ve been harassing,” the voice said, a little out of breath. 

“Fucking bitch--” The prick was cut off by another strike of a blow, an “oof” swiftly following. 

“And for the Mockingjay, you piece of shit.” 

Moving his arms to hug his stomach, its contents boiling, Gale finally opened his eyes. His eyes took time to adjust, dark spots clouding his vision as he tried to take in the scene before him. 

And still, when his vision cleared, he didn’t want to believe it.  _ Madge. _ Blonde hair spilled out of the bun piled on her head. Blush bridged across her two cheeks. Her blue eyes shined, burning. She stood there, shaking out a hand and used her other to point a threatening finger at the soldiers. The two cowered behind the biggest one, who had doubled over the counter, clutching at his face. He turned a head towards Madge, and Gale saw the red dripping from his split lip. 

“You boys better be leaving, because I see your company numbers. I know your Sergeant Lloyd and you’re only a phone call away from a dishonorable discharge unless you leave  _ now _ .” 

The soldier spit at Madge’s feet, a glob tinged dark with his blood. Madge didn’t flinch. Wordlessly, he turned to leave, the other two tailing close behind. Gale felt himself fully exhale for the first time since they had arrived. 

“This your broad?” The bartender raised an eyebrow at him.   
“Yeah…” Gale sighed, hugging his stomach tighter. He needed this night to be over. The bartender waved off Maurice, the security guard, who had arrived a little too late. 

“Well,” the bartender spoke to Madge, who was cradling her hand. “You best be taking him out of here. He’s had a lot to drink, and I commend you for putting those disrespectful kids in their place, but I can’t have people thinking we let fists fly in here. Gotta run a tight ship, you understand.” 

“I do.” Madge nodded, then shucked a couple bills from her pocket, dropping them on the counter. “I’m not sure how many he had, but I trust this covers your troubles for the night.” 

The bartender collected the bills, merely glancing at them before beaming an incredulous smile at Madge. “This more than covers it, miss. Thank you. You’re not actually going to let them off the hook, are you?’ 

Madge winked at him. “Course not. I’ll take care of them.” She bent to speak to Gale, mouth at his ear. “Can you stand for me? We’re going.” 

He weakly nodded, pitching his weight forward to hop off the chair. He swayed as his feet touched the floor, but he felt Madge’s arm loop around the small of his back and another hand at his chest to steady him. He leaned into her. “I need to puke,” he said.

“That’s okay.” She said softly. “You just need to hold it for a bit. Just until we get outside.” 

Gale nodded, letting Madge guide him through the throng of people, packed dense and loud. When the fresh air hit him outside, he felt a shock of relief. He took a deep breath, allowing himself to walk to the end of the block towards the vague direction of his apartment. 

Madge peered up at him. “You think you’re good enough to walk? We can call a cab.” 

“No, I--” Suddenly, Gale was on his hands and knees, the cement digging into his palms as he emptied his stomach of all the poison he had drunk in the last couple hours. He could feel his body perspiring at the exertion, but he could also feel Madge’s hand rubbing his back. 

When he was done, he collapsed back to sit, Madge supporting the bulk of his weight behind him. He felt a laugh thrum through her body. “We’ll call a cab,” Madge said. 

The humidity of the bar had been replaced by the frigid cold of the sidewalk, but as they waited for the cab, Gale was the warmest he’d been all day. 

* * *

Gale had spent the entire car ride with his head buried in his lap, using all his willpower not to puke again in the rolling car. He could barely think about the blonde flush at his side, who had sat in the middle seat for some inexplicable reason his drunk brain couldn’t quite figure out. 

But now, after he had stumbled out of the car, swayed in the elevator ride, scrambled down the hallway, and finally, somehow, unlocked the door to the apartment--all with Madge never leaving his side--Gale was starting to believe that she was here, really here. Here for him. 

He would dwell on it later. For now, he found himself bowed over the stainless steel sink in his kitchen, neck craned to catch the falling stream of tap water into his mouth. He drank in big gulps, water cascading down his chin. The cotton threads at the collar of his shirt absorbed the water. It was all a relief, to feel his body filled with something other than burning liquid, to cleanse where the grubby hands of the soldier had pulled him. He shut the faucet off, resting a cheek against the cool edge of the sink. 

Then, a giggle, pulling him out of his brief moment of repose.  _ Madge.  _ He straightened himself up again to find her leaning against the door frame, already barefoot on his tiled floor. He looked down. His own shoes were still on. 

“You needed that drink, didn’t you?” She said, a small trace of a smile at her lips. 

“The drinks!” Gale burst out, his eyes widening at Madge, who had pushed herself off the door frame in alarm. “I didn’t pay the tab. Shit.” 

“Oh,” Madge leaned back to the frame, her leg kicked out behind her. “Don’t worry about it. I took care of it.” 

Gale blinked. “You have to stop doing that,” he shook his head, groaning. 

“Doing what?” Madge looked at him curiously.

“You know,” Gale sighed, eyes clenched shut, not willing to meet Madge’s gaze this time. “How did you even find me?” He asked in a whisper. 

“Your doorman. Said you’d be at the bar,” Madge deadpanned. “It’s kind of a safety issue, if you ask me. Him giving out your whereabouts to _ strangers _ , for all he knows.”

Gale opened his eyes to let out a laugh. “Clearly he’s looking out for me, because you’re here,” he exhaled, letting a pause linger a beat more. When he spoke again, his voice had dropped to a whisper again. “You’re here…. and well, I owe you.” 

Madge was busy running her fingers along the ridges of the door frame, seemingly admiring these parallel lines. She didn’t say anything for a while. Finally, she dropped her hand, making a small noise of acknowledgment from her throat, as if the frame had told her what to say. 

“Let’s say we’re even. I heard what you did for me, and…” Madge trailed off. Gale waited patiently for her to continue. “And, let’s stop with all that.”

Gale knit his eyebrows together. “Stop with what?”

“Owing each other. The debts. The ‘life for a life’ bullshit. Let’s not do it anymore, yeah?” Madge swallowed, tucking her hair behind her ears as she waited for an answer. Gale studied her, the fluorescent light of the kitchen casting long shadows across her face, so unlike the warm glow of the setting sun that had painted her face as they sat in the strawberry meadow years ago. Still, even with these differences, he recognized the same expression as he had then: earnest, hopeful. 

Gale gave the blonde a small smile. “As you wish, Captain. I’m okay with that.” With just a few strides, he had stepped into the doorframe with her, imitating her relaxed pose from before, legs nearly touching hers. 

She nodded her head, and she stiffened up, putting space between them again. “Good. A shower then?” She asked curtly, stepping out of the doorframe, heading towards his room. 

He followed her across the living room. “S’too late for that.” 

At his bedroom door, Madge turned to raise an eyebrow, eyeing his wet shirt. “If you say so.” 

“Don’t worry,” He swung the door open. “I’m sure I’ll feel disgusted with myself when I wake up tomorrow.” Now at the foot of his bed, he had shed his shirt, and was in the midst of trying to kick off his shoes and jeans at the same time when he heard Madge clear her throat. He looked up to find her in the doorway again, a faint blush at her cheeks. 

“If you’re feeling okay, I’ll just let you...” She took a slow step back. 

“Oops. Sorry,” Gale said, but continued to struggle with his jeans. “I was hoping that the next time you’d see me almost naked would be under better circumstances,” Gale grumbled. 

Madge stopped her backtracking to laugh, but still averted her gaze. “Is that right?” 

“Yeah, you don’t believe me?” Gale was now just in his boxers, so he climbed under his mass of blankets, hoping to make Madge more comfortable. 

Madge hummed. “Maybe not, you’re pretty drunk.” Her eyes trained on his again. “I’ll turn off this light so you can sleep.” 

He didn’t object, so Madge rendered the room dark. He spoke to her shadow at the door, faint against the dim light beyond his room. “Madge, believe me. I’m sobering up.” 

He heard Madge sigh. Then, silence. He started again. “I’ve known for years. I’ve regretted it, Madge. I regret a lot of things, but I regret what I did to you maybe the most. Sober or not, I know this. Believe me.” 

“ What you did to me ? What do you think you did?” 

He thought for a moment, nestling his head into the pillow. “ I shouldn’t have made promises I couldn’t keep.” 

“Hm,” the shadow hummed. “I thought we’d just agreed that sort of thinking isn't allowed. It's bullshit.” 

Gale closed his eyes. With his back flat on the mattress, he directed his words to the ceiling. “Guess we did. I just want you to know--” 

“Gale. I know.” She interrupted softly. “Sleep for me?” 

“Alright,” Gale breathed out, sinking deeper into his pillow, too drowsy to protest anymore.

“Good night, Gale,” Madge said. 

As Gale drifted off to sleep, he had the thought to ask Madge to stay. But by then, he was already enveloped in total darkness. The door had already been closed; he had somehow missed the click of the latch, so he could only hope she would be there when he woke. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for all of u tht hv stuck around. im not sure if u are out there, i mean... this is so late. i dont even remember what i wrote in previous chapters myself haha. but i know its coming to an end and im grateful to everyone who has continued to read this rlly long drawn out story. Cheers! Ch 8 in the works!!!!


	8. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow ok so i see tht it has been 2 months since my last update?? I apologize to everyone for making you wait for the finale, but here it is... it took me a long time because I really wanted to cram in a lot of things.... a very dialogue-heavy (complete w angst and fluff) chapter, but i hope that this is somewhat satisfying?? I hope the pacing isn't off.... I love them, and I love all you readers that stuck around this far. Thank you!!!

The next morning, Gale woke to a dull ache pounding against his skull. Recentering himself in his sheets and duvets, he pushed up from his mattress to find a glass of water and two painkillers on his bedside. That’s right, he thought: _Madge_. The foggy memories of last night rolled in, and Gale groaned. He sent down the two pills with a gulp of water, trying to listen for any sign of the blonde beyond his shut bedroom door. He heard nothing, only smelling the faint smell of frying oil. 

Suddenly, the door swung open, jolting him. She stood there, plate in hand and gold hair pulled loosely into a bun like he remembered from last night. “Madge! Christ, I didn’t hear…” 

“Morning,” She cut him off, walking towards the bed. “Surprised that your hunter ears couldn’t hear my approach?” She laughed, a light twinkle. 

He laughed back, a little uneasy. “I guess. Back in 12…” He trailed off, remembering how he could hear her pad down the hallway during the quiet nights they spent together. 

“Guess my years in combat have made me light-footed,” Madge shrugged. “Or maybe your hangover inhibits your hunter senses.” A glimmer crossed her eyes as he laughed. “Oh, and you didn’t have much in your kitchen in terms of food… but here’s what I could put together.” Madge held out the plate of food to him, which he accepted graciously. 

“This is great, thank you. Thank you for last night, too.“ As he began shoveling the food into his mouth, Madge stifled a giggle. 

“I see your table manners haven’t improved,” Madge said through a small smile. 

“Oh, they have, Ms. Undersee, I promise,” Gale said between a couple big bites. “But this is my _bed._ No table manners needed.” 

Madge let herself laugh at that. “Alright, Mr. Hawthorne.” 

“Please,” Gale waved a hand. “Enough with the formalities. You saw me puking my guts out yesterday. I think that alone warrants a first name basis.” 

“Yes,” Madge said dryly. “ _That’s_ why.” 

Gale chewed silently, not knowing how to address her comment. He didn’t want to have that conversation just yet. It was too early. “Where’d you find the biscuits?” Gale asked instead, his mouth full of biscuits and scrambled egg. “I swear, they taste just like…”

“Peeta’s,” Madge finished for him. “I’d hope so, because they’re his.” 

Gale stopped chewing. “Peeta?” 

“I mean, I helped too,” Madge stammered. “But he did most of the work. You know Peeta, always--” 

“You went back?” Gale interrupted her, sitting up straighter in his bed. 

She hesitated. “Yes, I went back.” 

“You saw Peeta…” Gale trailed off.

“Yes.” Madge moved to sit at the corner of his bed. “I saw her, too.” She added quietly. “Her and Haymitch.”

Gale was very still. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, his chest bare, wearing only his boxers under the twisted sheets. Setting the plate down, he brought his knees to his chest and pulled the duvet over himself. “How were they?”

“They’re good. Keeping busy. Moving on. She’s doing a lot better.” Madge had her eyes trained on him as she spoke again. “All things considered.” 

Madge had left it unsaid, but he thought he knew what she implied. As he looked at the blonde in front of him, he remembered another, younger blonde and her plaited, flaxen hair. _Prim._ Her face materialized in his mind before he could stop it. He swallowed, feeling his jaw lock. A rush of nausea hit him, and he groped the bedside table for his glass of water, which he quickly brought to his lips for a desperate drink. He felt Madge’s eyes on him, watching curiously. “Right,” he managed out, speaking into his glass. “All things considered.” 

He set the glass back down, letting the clink of the glass on the polished countertop resound between the two of them. When it eventually quieted, he laid his head back on the headboard, looking out the window to follow the stream of tiny bodies bustling down the district’s sidewalks. 

“Gale,” Madge said suddenly, a new gentleness lacing her voice. Despite this, he didn't look away from the window. “That’s not what I meant.” From her corner of the bed, Madge shifted to place a hand over the place where the duvet had bunched over to cover his knees. Her hand was light, and the down of the duvet heavy, but Gale still felt the weight of her gesture. A few moments passed before she spoke again. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

Gale shut his eyes, sighing at the dark behind his eyelids. “Did she…” He closed his mouth, then opened it again, intending to complete his question, but lamely shut it again. 

“No, she didn’t,” Madge said carefully. “We didn’t talk about you.” He felt Madge give his knee a squeeze. Gale didn’t know if he felt relief or disappointment. Both maybe? He wanted to ask how she knew, but thought better of it. It didn’t matter _how_ she knew; what mattered was that she knew. He ran his hand over his face, before opening his eyes again. Outside the window, the stream of people in the streets below still continued on. Gale re-grounded himself in this constant line of movement. 

“How’s Haymitch, then?” Gale finally managed, looking to Madge again. With his eyes on her, she dropped her hand from his knee. 

“Haymitch?” Madge repeated. “Haymitch is good. In fact, _he_ talked about you.” 

“Did he?” Gale asked a little brusquely. 

“Yes, he was the one who told me about what you did,” Madge said, visibly alarming Gale before she hastily clarified. “About dropping the charges against Cull. Your resignation.” 

“Oh,” Gale said, letting out the breath he had been holding in. “How did the old drunk hear about that?” 

“He’s sober now,” Madge said pointedly. “But I guess he’s maintaining his network up here.” 

“A sober Haymitch. Hm.” Gale smirked and looked to the ceiling like he was trying to imagine it. He dropped his chin back down to look at Madge. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

“Gale,” Madge’s eyes narrowed. 

“No, really. I am.” Gale grinned. He shook his head, letting a chuckle slip out. “So he’s sober now, but he’s still sticking his nose in our business. Some things never change.” 

Madge furrowed her brow. “Oh?” 

“Yeah,” Gale said. “He gave me a lot of shit about you, back in the day.”

“That’s exactly what he said.” 

“I bet he didn’t mention how every time I did something to upset Katniss, he threatened to tell my mother that I had been sleeping with the mayor’s daughter.” 

“He knew?” Madge’s eyes darted around like she was trying to retrace the clues Haymitch could have followed. Gale was slightly amused at her disbelief--back then, he had thought they were discrete, too.

“He’s deceivingly perceptive. He’s the one who pushed me to make amends, even though I was convinced you hated me.” 

Madge was squinting in thought before realization to hit her. “That day at the train station, when they all left for the Quarter Quell...” 

“Yep--Haymitch’s doing. I think he trusted I would look after you, while he was gone.” Gale said as he busied himself with pulling at the loose stitching on his duvet. “When I saw him in District 13 after the firebombs--without you--he was…” Gale swallowed. “He took it hard.” At that last word, the span of his stitching came undone, the down feathers spilling out onto his sheets. 

Madge watched this undoing, this mess Gale was making on his bed. She said nothing about it. She asked instead: “Was he hard on you?” 

Gale shrugged. “Not like I didn’t deserve it.” 

“You didn’t.”

He held some feathers in his open palm now, which fluttered at the breath of his long sigh. “Well, even without me, you’re here. Somehow.” 

“Somehow,” Madge echoed. “ I’m here.” 

Gale hummed, tossing the feathered to look at her. “What now?” 

Madge just stared back, and he didn’t dare look away, her eyes the calmest sea. She disrupted their long gaze with a quick whistle. “I need a nap. Had a long night taking care of a drunk.” 

He pivoted just as quickly, laughing. “Sleep here? I know that fancy velvet couch is shit for your back.” 

Madge watched him closely, before crawling next to him on the bed. “Sure,” she squirmed a little, settling onto her back over the covers as he remained under. She let out a little breath, her body further sinking into the mattress. “You’ve got a comfy bed, Hawthorne. Even after you picked apart your duvet like you did.” 

Gale gave a half-hearted snort, too aware of the blonde outstretched at his side, her golden hair coiled around her head on his gray pillows. The silence stretched between them as he remembered the nights, the days spent in her bedroom, on her bed: blond locks on plush white pillows. His gray pillows suddenly seemed too jarring, offering a starker contrast against her hair than those in her bedroom all those years ago. It was different, he had to remind himself. He pulled his knees in closer to his chest, before outstretching his legs to move off the bed. “I’ll let you…”

“No,” She grabbed his wrist, making him jump. “It’s okay. You should stay.” 

He sunk back in. “Is that an order, Captain?” 

“Maybe.” 

Gazing at the ceiling, Gale could forget that she was next to him--her breathing so shallow, so faint. He spent a while like that, almost forgetting before being interrupted. 

“Do you remember the last time we were in bed together?” Madge whispered. 

Gale gave out an incredulous laugh but still didn’t dare to face her. He counted the speckles on the ceiling instead. “You’re really asking me that?” 

“I asked, didn’t I?”

He let out an exhale, running a hand through his hair. He burrowed a brow to feign the effort it took to recollect the memory. In truth, he already had the memory clear, crisp in his mind as soon as she had asked. He hadn’t forgotten anything with her, as much as he had tried. 

Finally, he spoke. “It was the night before I took you to the strawberry patch, wasn’t it? Two days before Katniss returned.” 

“I think it was. I had cut my finger on that broken glass my mother had dropped.” 

“I had bandaged it up.”

“And you said--”

Gale cut her off. “I said that Merchants were useless without the Seam. That we had to teach you everything. That a Seam kid like Katniss was the only reason why a Merchant kid like Peeta made it through the Games.” 

“Yes,” Madge confirmed. “Did you mean it?” 

“Maybe,” Gale said. “Probably not entirely. Back then… I was just angry. Either way, it was a stupid thing to say to you.” 

“Hm,” Madge acknowledged. “Do you think it’s still true?” 

“No,” Gale sighed. “No, I don’t. I was wrong. I don’t know if this is bad to say, but I know Peeta did so much more for her than she ever did for him. I _saw_ it. It just took me a while to realize it.” 

Finally, she turned onto her side to face him. “I understand.” 

She laced her fingers with his, looking up at him. Hesitatingly, he brought up their interlaced hands closer to inspect them. Gale could see the violet and green undertones blooming at her knuckles, evidence of her heroism last night. 

“That’s gonna be a nasty bruise, Madge.” Gale hummed, turning onto his side to make sure she saw his frown.“I’m sorry that you had to do that for me.” 

Madge let a soft chuckle slip out, even as she edged closer. “Don’t be sorry. I didn’t _have_ to. _I_ chose to punch that asshole.”

Gale dropped their hands to the gap between them. “But--”

“Stop,” Madge’s insistence jolted him. He pulled back slightly, but Madge’s grip on him only tightened. “I meant what I said earlier,” Madge looked at him with her blue eyes burning, contrary to the element they most closely resembled. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.” 

Gale sucked in a breath. Of course, it wasn’t the first or the second time he had heard that line. The doctors had told him that, again and again. He thought it had lost its meaning by now--until he heard Madge Undersee say it. He bowed his head to meet their interlaced hands to gently brush his lips against her bruising knuckles. Her eyes drifted shut. 

“Good night, Madge.” Gale forced his eyes shut, too. With her this close, it was too tempting to count her freckles like he wanted to, to see how many she had accumulated in their years apart. 

* * *

Madge had woken up to an empty bed. Immediately, she could somehow sense his absence from the entire apartment, but tiptoed around anyway, searching for him. In his office, she found a phone and settled into his oak chair--she had a call to make. 

Madge put the cool of the plastic phone to the shell of her ear, listening to the trilling of the phone before the break. 

“Lieutenant Morrow speaking.” The connection crackled slightly, but Madge smiled anyway. 

“Frankie! It’s wonderful to hear your voice.”

“Captain?”

“Yes, it’s me. Is Len around?” 

“No. Lieutenant Atelier is taking a personal day off.” She heard Frankie clear his throat before he lowered his voice. “Nursing a bad hangover. Serves her right, after deserting me at the company party yesterday. We missed you.” 

Madge smiled to hear her lieutenants up to their old antics. “I miss you, too. I hope you are all playing nice.” 

“Oh,” Frankie chuckled. “You want an update. Well, you know me, and you know Len. The company is going smoothly even without their mighty captain to lead them.”

Madge laughed. “Glad to hear it.” 

“We are wondering when you’re set to come back, though.” 

“That’s the thing, Frankie,” Madge exhaled. “I’m taking an indefinite leave. I’ve already informed the sergeants. You and Len are all set to serve as co-captains for the company. I’m sorry I won’t be there for your formal promotion, but please know that I’m proud of you both. I couldn’t ask for the company to be in better hands.” 

There was a silence. Madge was about to speak up again before Frankie practically squeaked out his next question. “Indefinite leave?”

“Indefinite leave, “ Madge confirmed. “I’ll be close, but I just have some things to sort in 2.”

“District 2? Isn’t that where--” 

“Frankie,” Madge cut him off. “Thank you for everything. You and Len were reckless, but I know I’m stubborn. I needed the push.”

“Hm.” Frankie was silent for a while, but Madge waited, thinking she heard a sniffle from the other end. “You’ve been fighting for a while, Captain. And even though I hate you for saying goodbye over the telephone--” He made a sound that was unmistakably a sniffle, “--I know the end to that fight is long overdue.” 

Although she didn’t want to admit it, Madge saw the edges of her vision blur. “Thank you, Frankie.” 

“Len’s gonna be so pissed she missed this,” Frankie gave another watery laugh. “But, it was a pleasure serving with you, Captain.” 

“As it was with you, Lieutenant Morrow.”Madge swiped at a stray tear at the corner of her eye. “And don’t worry. I’ll call her. I’ll visit.” 

“Good,” Frankie took a deep breath. “Oh, Captain?” 

“Yes?” 

“Last thing--Len and I saw Cull the other day. He’s doing much better. A couple days of thinking his whole professional life was over really straightened him out. You should’ve seen him.” Frankie chuckled again, and Madge could imagine his eyes crinkling as they usually did. “But anyways, he was being real reflective about the whole situation. We might’ve told him what we knew, so Cull said some shit about Hawthorne being the kind of man he could only hope to be. Eternally grateful and all that.”

“Oh, Cull,” Madge muttered.

Frankie continued. “He did say, though, that if hears anything about him not treating you right, Hawthorne should already know what he’s in for--Cull can still pack a mean punch if he wants to. Cull said it, but that extends to me and Len, too. Relay that to Hawthorne, will you?” 

Madge gave a spry laugh. “I will.” 

* * *

The sun was low in the sky by the time Gale returned, painting his apartment a warm gold. 

“So, you’ve found my stash, I see.” 

Madge’s back was turned to him, blonde hair cascading down her back as she deftly traversed her hands over the piano keys, effortlessly following the sheet music she had propped up on the stand. Several sheets were scattered at the foot of the piano bench. 

“Not much of a stash, if you ask me,” she said as the final note rang throughout the apartment, her foot pressed down on the brass pedal. “You only have beginner pieces.” She finally spun around, her eyes widening as she took him in, a couple paces away. “Gone shopping?” 

“Yeah, sorry for leaving during your nap. Needed the air and thought it would be good to get some food.” He stuck his thumb towards his kitchen. “Restocked and everything.”

“You bought flowers, too?” She nodded to the bouquet he held in his hands, the blooms of lavender, baby’s breath, hydrangea, and roses bound in twine. 

“Oh, right,” Gale lunged to hand the bouquet to Madge. “These are for you.” He leaned back onto the wall next to the piano, stuffing his hands deep into his denim pockets. 

“Thank you,” Madge offered him a smile, cradling the cellophane-wrapped flowers in her arms. “And what are these for?” She asked coyly. 

Gale flushed. “Kind of putting me on the spot there, aren’t you Undersee?” 

She shrugged, though Gale saw a faint smile she was working to hide. “Nothing you can’t handle, Hawthorne.” 

He gave out a loud laugh. “It’s uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s a thank you. For not being dead.” He gave a little cough, wincing at his delivery.

“First time you’ve given me flowers,” she looked to the bouquet, almost wistfully. “And it’s because I’m not dead?” Madge looked back to him, doing nothing to stop the smile that broke out on her face.

Gale blinked at the grinning blonde, his brows knitting “Yes?” He said with hesitance. “I’m thankful you’re not dead, Madge,” he said in earnest. 

This seemed to have no effect on Madge, who cocked her head to the side. “Oh? Well, I’m sorry to inform you that I am dead,” she said before straightening her posture. “At least, the Madge you knew.” 

Gale laughed. “That’s not true, ” He shook his head, an incredulous smile splayed on his face. “You’re still the same drama queen. Goddamn.”

“And you’re still the same idiot I remember.” She quickly threw back, smile still wide. 

Gale raised an eyebrow. “Am I?” 

“Yes, only an idiot would wait until an entire war and some to get his girl flowers.” She stroked the petals of one of the pale pink roses, feeling his eyes on her. 

“Who says you're my girl?”

“No one,” She set the bouquet down next to her and stood. With only a foot between them, Gale straightened up. She had to slightly crane her neck to look at him. “That was a theoretical example of a theoretical idiot.” 

“Ah, of course, unfortunately,” Gale took his hands out of his pockets, crossing his arms, “I just might be that theoretical idiot.” 

“So he admits it.” Madge inched forward.

Gale shrugged. “Do you admit that you’re a drama queen?”

“Would you still like me if I wasn’t?” 

“Answering a question with a question,” Gale drummed his fingers on his chin. “I don’t know if that’s allowed.”

Madge shook her head. “You forget, Gale Hawthorne--there’s only one rule between us. ”

“Which is?” 

“We owe each other nothing.” She tucked her hair behind both of her ears, noting how Gale watched her intently as she did. “So I can answer your question with a question.”

Gale hummed. “If that’s true, I don’t owe you an answer, either.”

“That’s how this goes, yes.” She nodded absently, looking at his gray eyes. She always recalled that it was the color of ash. Now, it was a shining silver. “But,” Madge added quietly, “I would like to hear your answer.” 

“And the request comes in,” Gale jested, smiling. Then, he looked somewhere over her shoulder, dropping his smile. He gave a big exhale before he spoke, voice grave. “I don’t care if you’re not the same Madge. I still...” He took another breath, ”I still want to do this.” 

“And what’s _this_ , exactly?” Madge quickly relayed back, though she could feel herself flush. 

“This? Well, it’s...” Gale stammered, blinking in thought. 

Madge bit her lip, impatient. “Idiot,” Madge said under her breath, surging forward to crush her lips to his. She clasped her hands around his head to pull him closer, and he immediately clutched his hands around her hips in response. 

It was gentle first, chaste; they both smiled against each other’s mouths. A beat passed. Then, it was all a desperate clash of lips, teeth, a quick swipe of tongue. Madge pressed him against the wall, running her hands over his chest. Groaning, Gale thread his hands in her hair, running his nails through her scalp just like she remembered he liked. They both were in a frenzy, kissing and chasing for contact, trying to relearn each other. Blazing, like they were making up for the years of guilt, grudges. Compensating for the lost time. Remembering, rewriting now. _It was never like_ this, she thought hazily as he nipped at her lip. 

She snuck her hands under his cotton shirt, feeling the hard planes of his abs before pulling him closer. Her arms reached around to slide up his back, running over the ridges of scar tissue. She stilled, breath hitching, and Gale pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. Panting, his breaths warmed her cheeks as she moved her hands again, meticulously tracing the thick, raised diagonals on his back with her fingertips. 

“I looked away last night,” Madge let her hands follow one long slash up his spine, “I was afraid that...” she trailed off.

Gale ducked to give her another kiss. “It’s just skin, Madge.” 

She finally noticed her heart racing, feeling the valves of her heart opening and shutting, pumping hot blood. “I just... I’m afraid it’s worse than I’ve imagined.” 

“I promise it’s not,” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, brushing a thumb across her cheekbone. “It’s had years to heal.” 

Madge rested her head under his chin, her forehead pressed to the hollow between his collarbones. Gale held her as she listened to his heartbeat slow. 

“Look Madge, you never have to look at them, if you don’t want to,” He said softly after awhile. She could feel his voice reverberate through his body. “I know you have your own, and I know it’ll hurt to see yours, too, but…” He kissed her head. “In time. We have time.” 

“Time…” Madge repeated. “Time would be nice.” 

“Good.” He studied her a moment more. “For now, though,” He said as he swiftly swooped her into his arms, hands tight at her back and under her knees. Madge clasped her hands around his neck as she shrieked in surprise at being picked up. “Hope you don’t mind if we continue this in the bedroom. I’ve heard I’ve got a comfy bed.” 

“You do.” Madge beamed at him. 

He gave a laugh, swinging her to leave the corner Madge had boxed them into. At the movement, her dangling feet hit the bouquet still resting on the piano bench, sending it to rest among the scattered sheet papers. 

“Careful! My flowers!” Madge looked at him, eyes wide. 

“Oops,” Gale mumbled as he carried her away. “I’ll get them for you later. I have my hands kind of full.” He crossed the door frame of his bedroom, before stopping in thought. “You have a vase at the base for them?”

“No,” Madge ran her fingers through his hair. “I was hoping you had one, so they have somewhere to stay while I’m here.” 

Gale’s eyebrows raised as a grin slowly cut across his face. “Who said you’re staying?” 

Madge’s wide smile matched his. “I let you bum around my house all those years ago--isn’t it time you returned the favor?” 

“I thought we didn’t owe each other anything, Undersee.” He adjusted his grip on her so she was secure in his hands.

“Oh, right,” Madge frowned. “In that case,” She reached up to run a hand across his jaw. “Will you have me, Gale Hawthorne?” 

Gale smiled. “Of course, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, i got a very short epilogue for you, enjoyy


	9. Epilogue

“Auntie!” 

Madge pivoted on her heels to brace herself for the little girl that was bounding toward her. She quickly stooped down to pick up the dark-haired toddler, swinging her upside down by her ankles, then scooped her back into her arms. The girl was a giggling fit, her eyes a gleaming blue, not unlike Madge’s own. 

“Hello, my niece,” Madge said, somewhat out of breath.

“Christ, Madge! Careful!” Katniss called from the porch. Madge turned to grin at her old friend, who had her hands at her hips and her mouth twisted into a scowl. “Can you not treat my daughter like she’s some sack of flour? I thought Peeta was the only one who needed that reminder.” 

“Relax, Katniss,” Peeta appeared at Katniss’s side, rubbing her back reassuringly. “Madge is ex-military. We can trust her to not drop our child.” 

Katniss scoffed, rolling her eyes, but a smile pulled at her lips. 

“Thanks Peeta,” Madge winked. She had ascended up the porch steps with the girl in her arms, giving exaggerated huffs until she set the girl down. “Gee, someone’s gotten heavy since the last time we were here.” Madge crouched to poke the girl’s button nose, eliciting another giggle from the girl. “I’m glad,” Madge added.

Madge shot up to greet her friends, beaming. “And just when I thought your kid wasn’t going to get any cuter.” She shook her head mockingly, then pulled the parents into a hug. “Hi, you two. Where’s the baby?” 

“Haymitch is feeding him,” Peeta said, collecting his daughter into his arms. 

“Wow,” a deep voice sounded behind her as an arm snaked around Madge’s waist. She had been distracted; she hadn’t heard him approach. “Now he’s traded in the whiskey bottle for a milk one, eh? Amazing.” 

“Gale,” Katniss simply nodded in greeting. “You’d be surprised how people can change,” she said, somewhat steely-eyed. Madge wrapped an arm around Gale, feeling him tense. She squeezed his shoulder.

“Hi Katniss,” Gale said evenly. “Are _you_ surprised?” 

“Am _I_ surprised?” Katniss raised a brow. Both Madge and Gale knew it was a rhetorical question, and they could only just bide their time to wait for her answer, joint bodies stiff. 

Hoisting his daughter onto his good leg, Peeta leaned towards Katniss to whisper in her ear. “Katniss, c’mon, they just got here--”

Katniss waved Peeta off, not taking her eyes off Gale. “I know Madge. I know how good she is. With her by your side...” Katniss trailed off. “I’m not surprised at all.”

Madge felt her and Gale’s bodies simultaneously relax. 

“Consider ourselves lucky that we have these Merchant kids to look after us,” Gale said, gesturing to Peeta. Katniss gave her first smile to Gale then, hand at Peeta’s back. 

“Very lucky,” Katniss replied. 

“Wow,” Peeta shook his head incredulously, “That’s sweet, but it’s a lot,” Katniss, Gale, and Madge all laughed awkwardly as he stepped inside the house.“But please, come inside. I know Haymitch is eager to see his goddaughter, even if he won’t admit it.” 

“It’s true,” Katniss winked at Madge, “He’s been complaining to us about how little you visit.” 

Gale linked arms with Madge as she chuckled, following Katniss in. “I’m off to deliver you to your godfather, it seems,” he teased. 

“Wait,” Madge squeezed his bicep to stall Gale before he passed the threshold of the house. “You okay?” 

Gale leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “I’m okay. I know it takes time.” 

Still at the doorway, Madge felt the warmth of the house inviting them both in. Years ago, she stood here under very different circumstances: a snowstorm, sleet blinding, morphine vials chattering, a bleeding Gale inside. And now: them, together. Only a boisterous family inside. Madge smiled. “That’s right,” she said back to him. “Time.”

* * *

At the front of the yard, the cluster of primroses danced in the wind, their blooms still unfurled in anticipation of spring. The soil at their roots was damp, just watered by an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew it is done, I can't believe this took me 6 months to complete, but here it is. I know that it got kinda mushy at the end there... hope you all were able to take it!
> 
> Also, I don't want to imply that Katniss completely forgives and forgets. Definitely not. But I wanted it to be at least the start to a long long process of healing for all of them. I also hope I wasn't too heavy-handed with all the convos and stuff, I mean, it's all lessons that I would hope that these characters could learn (and that I hope I can learn too.) 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading-this is my first long piece of writing that I have finished and I am oddly proud of it. Special thanks to my readers A, L, and S-- hope you guys enjoyed, too. Thanks for waiting for me and pushing me to write. :')

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I will try my best to continue this because it will do good to finish this story, even if it is just for my 8th grade year old self who thought so long and hard about this pairing. Of course, would love to hear from you, too!!


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